The Boughten Bride: A Fairy Tale -- of Sorts
by Adamantwrites
Summary: "Of the three Cartwright brothers, the one known as "Little Joe" married first." A tale of three Brothers and their search for happiness ever after. Inspired by a volume of Russian fairy tales. Warning: Mild adult language, adult situations and very little violence.
1. Chapter 1

_**Al recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original plots and characters are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended**_

 **The Boughten Bride: A Fairytale – of Sorts**

 **The First Bride**

Of the three Cartwright brothers, the one known as "Little Joe" married first.

"You're a goddamn fool," the eldest brother, Adam Cartwright, said when his brother came home with a bride. "What do you know about her?"

"I know that she's a beauty and despite what you might think, I'm glad I married her. And we have time to get to know one another better. We have our whole lives ahead of us."

"And what if you don't like what you come to know? It'll be a little late then, won't it?"

"Older brother, don't be so cynical. What if I fall in love even more? What if I'm going to be drunk with happiness? You ever think of that?"

"This isn't a fairy tale, Joe, this is life. There are no 'happy ever afters'."

"There might be, Adam. You should give things a chance, find a wife for yourself. Sleeping alone and taking care of your needs yourself is making you old and grumpy before your time." And Joe winked and laughed; Adam just made a sound of disgust.

Joe's wife was named Bernice and she had honey-blonde hair, a pretty face, and bright hazel eyes, very much like Joe's. She was silly, barely educated but adored her handsome young husband who had traveled to a small town on the outskirts of Baltimore to fetch her. Joe was excited to have such a woman waiting for him – congenial, obliging and more than pleased with her prospective husband's beauty. There was such an attraction between them that they married the same afternoon they met and Joe was even more pleased when they lay together that night. As Joe later told Adam who mentioned Bernice's ignorance, "We don't discuss poetry or do ciphering in bed so her having no education is fine with me. I'll teach her all she needs to know." Joe grinned. But the newlyweds' ardor was a problem once they arrived home to the Ponderosa as it caused some discomfort among the other two brothers to see Joe and Bernice giggling and kissing one another when they were together.

Even Ben Cartwright, the father of the three brothers, had noticed and made a comment. "Joe, there is such a thing as propriety. Bernice is a lovely girl and I know what it's like to be in love but please show proper decorum; save the open affection for the bed chamber."

Adam was disdainful of their constant touching and Bernice's silliness, but he admitted to himself that his young brother having a wife only reminded him of how lonely he was.

At close to 40 years, Adam Cartwright was a self-confirmed bachelor – at least so he claimed - and yet he secretly longed for a wife to share his days and his nights. The middle brother Hoss, a large man by anyone's standards, also yearned for a wife so he set about to secure one in the same manner as Little Joe had – a mail order bride.

The Civil War had decimated the male population in the northeastern and southern states and many young women of those areas, yearning to become wives and mothers but not finding any eligible men, took a chance of fate and mailed ads to newspapers that would reach the hard-working bachelors in the wilderness of the western states. The territory west of Missouri lacked available women of the marrying type; it seemed the perfect solution for all involved. Many eastern widows with their children in tow, found that along with the death or their husbands came destitution, so if any man wanted them sight unseen, as many of these relationships started, it was preferable to watching one's children starve. Love wasn't as important as the poets and novelists stressed. Safety, a home of one's own, and food on the table, no matter how meager, was far more important and if a woman had to lie under a man in order to be protected and provided for, it was a bargain. Men who longed for a wife to handle the affairs of the house and make it a home felt that a woman's beauty was secondary. After all, at night in the bedroom, lamps and candles could be extinguished and "all cats are grey in the dark." Any woman's body was the same to a desperately lonely man.

Within six months of their meeting and marrying, Bernice Cartwright was with child. The family visited the young couple whose house stood in a pastureland with a tall stand of sheltering trees at its back. The interior was lit with many lamps and at dinner that night, Joe broke the news to his family while Bernice blushed and giggled and accepted the kisses from her relatives. And puffed-up Little Joe strutted about as any young cock in the chicken yard would.

And Joe and Bernice's good news, although welcome, reminded Adam of his longing for a wife to bear a child of his before he was too old to enjoy being a father.

In the darkness of the evening, as the father, Ben, and his two sons rode the short distance home from the youngest's house, the middle son, Hoss spoke aloud of Little Joe's obvious happiness and asked if it was wrong of him to envy his brother a bit and desire the same for himself.

"Not at all," Ben said. "I would hope such happiness for all three of you."

So Hoss decided he would write an advertisement for a wife. When he told Adam, he chided Hoss but agreed to assist him in composing a small ad to appear in the eastern papers. In the ad, it was stated that only a woman who was interested in marriage to an honest, hard-working man need respond. It was surprising to both Hoss and Ben that the ad which actually revealed so little information about Hoss, should engender 26 responses. But Adam was certain he knew why; almost all requested they be brought to Nevada.

"Don't send them any money or even a train ticket to come see you," Adam advised. "If you do, the money will more than likely be pocketed and the ticket cashed in. For all you know, this may be how these women make their living; some may already be married and their husbands encourage this dodge."

"But how can I meet them then? Go visit like Joe did? Specially iffen they have a husband."

"You can - just don't have your expectations too high. But if you find a woman you like, write her back and ask them to pay their way out. If they're unhappy with you or the situation, then say you'll pay their return ticket. It sounds fair."

Reluctantly Hoss agreed that Adam was more than likely correct and the exultation he initially felt at the many responses vanished and a sense of defeat overtook him, especially after he answered many of the letters and received no further response. But one day there was a letter from a woman in Minnesota. Her name was Hennie Gunborg and she lived on her father's farm. She was 29 and wanted to be the wife of a farmer. She was good at husbandry, she said, and enjoyed taking care of the home; sewing and cooking were her pleasures. And, Hennie added, she had the money to travel as she considered herself frugal and had savings of her own. Therefore, despite her father's objections, she would be arriving with her cousin, Alvar Larsson, within a week's time. Alvar would judge the man and give his opinion and report matters to her parents if she chose to stay and marry him.

"This cousin of hers," Adam said as he handed the letter back to Hoss, "might be her husband instead of her cousin. They might be coming to see how much money they can bilk from you. Be careful."

"I swear, Adam, the older you get the more suspicious you get."

"That's because I've seen more and now that the war's over, people are looking for ways to make a quick buck. You need to be careful."

"Your brother's right," Ben said. "Joe just got lucky with Bernice. It won't hurt to slow down some and make sure this Larsson is really her cousin."

"Well, just in case Miss Gunborg is the one, I want a house to bring her to," Hoss said.

"But Hoss," his father said, "you don't even know that she's the one."

"I know," Hoss said. "I just know."

"You're a goddamn fool," Adam said, shaking his head.

"Maybe I am," Hoss said. "Just maybe I am, but I ain't gonna be no lonely goddamn fool."

There was a long-deserted house that sat on the Ponderosa and creatures had come to make it their own. But Hoss and Adam and Joe went to it, sweeping out cobwebs that sat as thick as curtains over the windows. They patched the roof to keep out squirrels and owls and rebuilt walls that had hidden mouse nests. The house was white-washed and stood out from all the browns and greens of the wilderness. The old furniture was taken out, broken down and burned and the floors were scrubbed clean. Even the chimney was swept. Hop Sing and Ben came by one day and brought new linens for the kitchen, bedroom and the bath and Hop Sing, reveling in his displeasure at the way the brothers had cleaned, took it upon himself to scrub down the kitchen after them. He also polished the pots and pans and the new stove that had been brought in from Sacramento City and proudly placed in the kitchen, the stovepipe snugly fit through the roof.

"Hop Sing," Hoss protested, "that stove's brand new! Why're you polishin' it?"

"Now it be new and clean!"

"When you marry," Joe said, "we'll throw a barn-raising. You know, have all the neighbors in, have a barbeque and Hop Sing can cook a wash tub full of beans and bacon – gallons of lemonade, cakes and pies…"

"And a keg of beer!" Hoss added, grinning.

That evening, the one before Hennie Gunborg and her cousin were to arrive, the family of men stood and looked proudly around the renewed house.

"Now all you need is furniture," Adam said as he stood and looked around the bare parlor.

"Long as they have a bed," Little Joe teased, "they won't need anything else."

Hoss blushed. And Adam laughed with the others although his heart was heavy; he was certain it would end badly and Hoss would suffer a broken heart.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Second Bride**

The day was bright, clear and full of promise. The two brothers, Hoss and Adam, waited at the train depot, people milling about, involved in their own matters and destinations. Hoss, nervously adjusted his tie and jacket lapels. "How d'I look, Adam?"

"Nervous."

"I mean how d'you think I look to a woman? One who's never seen me before?"

"Like you'd crush her the first time you lay on top of her." Hoss' eyes widened and Adam laughed. "Don't worry, you look just fine," Adam clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"What if she don't like me; I ain't the handsomest man around."

Adam was tempted to say, "She's probably not the prettiest woman either, but since you have money, I'm sure she'll like you," but chose to remain silent on that account. Instead he said, "Maybe not, but any woman'd be lucky to get you." And his brother's humble grin assured Adam he had said the right thing.

But all the anxiety had been for naught. Hennie Gunborg stepped off the train, a large woman with broad hips and a wide, friendly face. She stood close to six feet tall and was as blonde and intimidating as a Nordic goddess. She was primly dressed in a wool suit and wore a small hat or perhap it just looked small on someone so large. He skin was ruddy from the sun and her brows and eyelashes were so blond that they seemed to have disappeared. Her almost white-blonde hair was worn in two large braids almost as thick as her wrists, coiled about her head like a crown. And she fell in love with Hoss and he with her at first meeting.

Alvar Larsson, her cousin, was a dour man, or so he seemed at first meeting. He resembled Hennie in coloring, was almost as tall as Hoss, and well-muscled from heavy work, his arms and neck browned by the sun. But his pants were short and unstylish indicting that he had long owned his 'good" suit and had outgrown it quite a few years ago; he couldn't even button the jacket closed without it gaping.

But that night over dinner at the Ponderosa, Little Joe and Bernice sitting at the table with Hoss' prospective bride, Alvar drank two topped glasses of wine and began to join in the good spirits that abounded. He joked and laughed and even made a few bawdy remarks about virgins and wedding nights. Hennie scolded him but Alvar became even more loose-tongued, telling Hoss that his cousin Hennie, had been pursued by many men in their county only she could throw a bull better than they could, so it scared them away.

"There is no man she can't tame," Alvar said, waving a finger upward for emphasis, "or any man she can't throw on his back. But I think, my good friend, Hoss, my cousin Hennie will more than willingly and under her own power, fall on her back for you! She is one mare who's been waiting for the right stallion to mount her!" He broke into a good-natured laugh at his own joke, and Hennie reached out to cuff her cousin, but Alvar ducked and the whole family laughed. Adam noticed the look of contentment and happiness on Hoss' face. Hennie was the one for him. Within two days they were married in the festooned Ponderosa parlor with many neighbors and friends in attendance. Alvar pulled his handkerchief to dab his eyes and blow his nose after he gave away the bride. And after the party, after the dancing and eating and multitude of toasts to the health and happiness of the couple, Alvar wished the couple well and then staggered to the barn with a bottle of whiskey while the bedding of the newly-wedded couple took place in the upstairs room.

That night, Adam lay in his bed alone and considered how both his "goddamn foolish" brothers were lying with their wives, enjoying the soft flesh and curves of a woman while he lay longing for a wife to calm his blood. For he often woke in a sweat, his body yearning to join with a woman but not just any woman. She had to be one who was fully his wife, who would proudly take his name. A woman who loved him.

Early the next morning, Hennie was up, her hair again tightly coiled about her head, and wearing a coarse muslin dress with an apron tied about her waist, her sleeves rolled up, she was ready to work. Her large, milk-white arms showed and although Hop Sing jealously guarded his pots and pans and his beloved stove, Hennie insisted on making the coffee her way, with an egg cracked in the pot to catch the grounds. Hop Sing frowned and grumbled but as far as compromises went, he realized he had come off easy.

After a breakfast of hot cakes with warm maple syrup, bacon and slices of ham soaked in the residual syrup, Alvar, nursing a hangover, saying that a mule must've kicked him in the head as he slept in the barn, left to go home to Minnesota. Hennie, hugged her cousin, kissed his cheek, and told Alvar to comfort her father with the news she had married a good man and a man of much means. And her husband gave her a good bedding, she added. Hoss had blushed at the message but Adam could see that his brother was proud of his wife and that she was glad she married him.

"And tell, Poppa he must come to visit my husband and me. In my home, he will always have a place."

As far as the new house, Hennie approved although she clucked about it being empty and not as clean as she thought fit. She rolled up her dress sleeves and set about washing windows; she was so tall, she needed no stepstool. And while she was washing and scrubbing, Hennie set about giving Hoss orders on what else she wanted done. A vegetable garden outside the kitchen needed to be dug and seeds to be bought. And Hennie wanted a flower bed in the front. Roses would grow there, she was certain, she said, after turning over a shovelful of earth and running the dirt between her fingers. And so, Hoss worked per Hennie's directions and Adam helped him when he could.

Hennie set about unpacking the large trunk she had brought. It held crockery and doilies and linens, embroidered tablecloths, silver cutlery and many other housekeeping items. Her most prized possession was a set of Delftware that she kept for "good" – only to be used on Sundays. It had been in her family for over a hundred years, brought from Denmark by her grandmother when she moved to Sweden to marry. Ben bought a beveled-glass fronted breakfront to display the dishes alongside Hennie's cut-crystal glassware. The polished piece stood proudly in the parlor, lording over the other pieces of furniture that were added later.

Before spring round-up, Hennie was satisfied enough with the way things looked that Hoss could help with the branding and one afternoon, after lassoing and wrestling recalcitrant calves, Hoss brought Adam home for lunch.

"Now, I don't mind the stink," Hennie said as the men sat down, "as you are working men and it is only midday, but I'll not serve anyone at my table, even my kitchen table, who has such dirty hands. Now both of you go out to the washhouse and scrub those hands clean." Hennie stood holding her wooden spoon as a king does his scepter. "And sluice the back of your necks as well."

As Hoss washed his hands, using the rough brush beside the sink to remove the entrenched grime, he smiled as Adam used Hennie's homemade soap. "I swear," Hoss said, "she's the cleanest woman I ever saw. I gotta make sure I got clean feet and washed under my arms and…down there, you know, my privates and all, afore she'll let me in the bed at night."

"Your mother was that way, Hoss. I used to have to show my hands to her before we ate and she'd check my ears to make sure I'd cleaned them every morning. Actually, Hennie reminds me of your mother in many ways. You're a lucky man." Adam shook the water off his hands before he reached for the towel.

"I know it, Adam. Ev'ry night I reach for that woman and I swear, Adam, each time it's as nice as it ever was. You need to get yourself a wife."

Adam said nothing but of late, he had been having the same thought. Every time Little Joe and Bernice came over, Adam felt the stab of envy just as he did with Hoss and Hennie. He didn't covet his brothers' wives – they held no sexual attraction for him – but he did envy that his brothers had a woman to lay with them and share their lives. How he longed to hold a woman in the dark of night and kiss her and murmur sweet words. And have her respond in kind.

"Here, Adam, have some more." Hennie dished out another serving of the thick egg noodles with their golden gravy and the juicy chunks of chicken.

"Oh, Hennie, I think I've had enough," Adam protested.

"Nonsense. You need some sturdy food to do hard work. And you're too thin. Have some more milk." Hennie picked up the pitcher and poured Adam a glass of milk so thick it seemed like cream. "What you really need though, is a wife."

"I been telling 'im that," Hoss said as he ate more of the noodles and used a slice of bread to wipe up gravy on the plate. "Course, ain't many eligible women 'round here no more. Most people are movin' on to Carson City or elsewhere, now that some of them mines are played-out."

"You didn't ask me, Adam," Hennie added, "but there are many available women who need a husband. I know a few back in Minnesota who are war widows and I'd be happy to share their names for correspondence; so many men have been killed back east that some women see nothing but a life of loneliness ahead of them. They would gladly marry a man like you despite your dark looks. And no man should live a bachelor having to satisfy his needs in such places as no decent man should go."

Hoss and Adam exchanged looks and Hoss shrugged. Hennie oversaw the mating of the animals, the mares mounted by the stallions, took care of the pigs and saw the boar mount the sow, the cock tread the hens, so talking about men and women in the same way was no surprise. Men, to Hennie, were just another type of "beast" satisfying the needs that God gave all creatures. And that it could be pleasurable was another of God's gifts to man.

Adam smiled at Hennie's comment. He knew that his swarthy looks weren't appealing to someone like Hennie who enjoyed Hoss' light-haired, ruddy looks. But Adam didn't remark as Hennie meant no insult. But he also said nothing because he had sent off for a bride and he kept the shameful secret hidden in his bosom where it tormented him as he had heard nothing back. Better no one else ever know that he had given in to such a weakness.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Third Arrives**

Since the younger Cartwright brothers had wives and homes of their own to keep, the eldest went to San Francisco to bid for a railroad contract. He was also the cleverest, the one who within a few minutes of conversation could read a man and tell if he was honest or merely someone who was pumped up by his own self-opinion. And Adam was the most likely to catch an obfuscated clause in a well-written contract that might cost them dearly later on.

When he was in San Francisco, Adam usually enjoyed his time as there was always some entertainment going on, a play, an opera or a popular entertainer. And if his desires were less refined, Adam visited a gambling parlor and then spent a few hours in a brothel, just long enough to release his tension from meetings and negotiations. For some reason though, that night, although Adam felt his blood heat with the desire for a woman, he didn't go. He felt old although he wasn't yet 40. But many times, Adam had seen older men, men in their 50's or even older, look about guiltily as they crept up the stairs with a woman leading the way. And many times, the whores made the men pay more as the women found they had to do most of the work. The older men were objects of either disdain or pity and Adam couldn't bear either of those emotions.

Adam reclined on the hotel bed, his broad back against the headboard, and snapped open the newspaper that had been placed on his bureau. He picked and chose which articles to read and was about to skip the pages with advertisements but stopped. He scanned the pages until he saw the area with small ads from men and women searching for a "correspondence with matrimony as an object." One caught his eye.

 _A young woman of 24 alone in the world seeks matrimony with a kind man. Neither his age nor wealth is of consequence as I am willing to work hard and be a helpmeet. All I desire is a man of gentle nature. Reply to M. David, Greensburg, Penn._

Adam smirked, concluding that the young woman – who at 24 and unmarried, must be unattractive – was desperate for a husband. But then he reread the advertisement, and something about it touched his heart. She wanted a kind and gentle man. Perhaps she had been treated cruelly. Or perhaps, as was more than likely the case, she was hoping to find a kind man to cheat. Or perhaps, he considered as his cynical side stepped out completely, M. David of Pennsylvania was a man looking to cheat the many desperate men who longed for a wife as life was difficult enough to trek through the years alone. Adam decided he wouldn't be a target and respond to such an ad, even though there was no request for money, no pleading for a ticket – at least, not yet. Or perhaps, M. David was actually a woman but also a shill, a partner in duplicity. And if Adam asked for a picture, well, any picture of any woman could be sent; it would prove nothing.

But the words from _Genesis_ rang in his ears: _…_ _for Adam there was not found an help meet for him._ Was he to go through life alone? But to believe in "signs" directing his fate was foolish, Adam believed. And yet…

He dropped the newspaper in the wastebasket and stripped for sleep. But all night he dreamed about a phantom bride in his bed, about a woman whose lithe body he could take to satiate his deep hunger for a woman. Early, before the sun rose, Adam woke with a shudder – his body shaken with his dreams. He sat on the side of the bed, holding his head in his hands, tears stinging his eyes; the dream was a cruel joke. No woman to take his seed lay beside him, reached out to him and touched his cheek or stroked his hair. No wife to sing his name in her pleasure. Then Adam rose and pulled the discarded newspaper out of the waste basket. He tossed it on the bed and slipped on his trousers and then shrugged on his shirt, but starting to button the placket, he stopped. Barefoot, he snatched up the paper and went to the small desk in the room. He sat and found stationary and envelopes in the drawer with the hotel's crest at the top.

Quickly, he wrote a response to the ad. He let M. David, know he was a single man in Nevada who was looking for a wife to share his life. He didn't know if anyone would describe him as 'kind' or 'gentle' but they would say he was honest and hard-working. Should she care to meet him in Nevada, he would be more than amenable. He signed it, _Best Wishes_ as he didn't know what else to write that would convey interest yet not be foolish or emotional. Below his signature, Adam wrote his address. He realized that he secretly hoped he would receive a response. "You're a goddamn fool," he told himself.

Adam addressed the envelope to M. David, Greensburg, Pennsylvania. He sat and stared at it. What did the M stand for? Was her name Mildred? Mary, perhaps? Melinda? Melissa? He ran the names about on his tongue. Melissa was the most pleasing, he decided. The he smirked and shook his head. "Don't fool yourself. It's probably a scam and you're just a pathetic, desperate target." He stared at the letter again, then folded the short letter and slid it inside the envelope. He raised the pointed flap to his mouth and with his tongue, dampened the gummed edge, then folded it down, pressing it. On his way out of the hotel, his carpetbag in one hand, he slid the envelope toward the desk clerk. "Post this." He followed up his request by slapping two-bits on the wooden counter.

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir. It will go out today."

At home, the eldest brother waited day after day. He often forgot about the letter he had sent but was reminded whenever one of his brother's wives was mentioned or appeared. Adam would realize the happiness they enjoyed but he didn't. And one morning, there was a letter waiting for him in the Cartwright box at the depot. His heart thumped harder when he saw the return address – Greensburg, Pennsylvania.

"Not much else, Adam," Mr. Coombes said. "Seems not much mail goes through here anymore. I think this town may be dying."

"I don't think so," Adam said, slipping the envelope in his jacket pocket; he'd read it when he was alone. "I saw new homesteaders just the other day – said they had purchased the old MacKay place."

"Well, seems like everyone's heading over to Carson City now. You know they even got a post office over there?"

"Yeah, but I had forgotten." Adam considered that he should have begun the correspondence with M. David with the address of Carson City's P.O. It would be more difficult for any crook to find out about him, to see if he was wealthy if they believed he lived in Carson City. But it was too late.

It was still early in the day and the saloon was empty, the piano silent, the bar maids not yet up and about. Only the bartender was active, dusting the glass bottles, washing mugs and glasses. He smiled when Adam came in and when he asked for a shot of whiskey, the bartender pulled out a bottle of expensive whiskey and gladly poured for he knew the eldest Cartwright son wasn't tight with his money when it came to thanking others for service.

Alone at a table in the back, Adam read the letter.

 _Dear Mr. Cartwright,_

 _I am pleased to have received your response. I have received few others as well, but I chose to answer you as your words were correctly spelled. It may appear an odd manner to cull one out of the many but I needed a means. I hope you wrote it yourself._

 _I would very much like to travel to meet you but I have no resources. Therefore, if you would send me a ticket or the amount needed to travel by rail from Greensburg to Nevada, I will leave as soon as either one arrives._

 _I look forward to meeting you and pray that I am not displeasing in appearance._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Miss M. David_

Adam downed the shot of whiskey. There it was – the hook. She needed money or a ticket that would probably be cashed once received. He shook his head and chuckled at his naivety. How could he have believed such a letter?

"Cosmo, another whiskey. Actually, bring the bottle." And Adam crumpled the letter in his fist.

But after a few drinks, Adam smoothed the letter out on the table. Perhaps it was genuine? And as he walked out of the Wells Fargo office after wiring $200.00 to M. David, Adam said to himself, "You're a goddamn fool, boy, and $200.00 poorer."

For two weeks, there was no letter, no wire and Adam began to accept that he had been duped. When he was with Little Joe and Bernice or Hoss and Hennie or even sitting in his favorite chair at home and reading, he would feel pangs in his heart that he could put down to nothing else but loneliness. He was also angry with himself. $200.00 was not that much to him but it wasn't, as his father had once said after Little Joe lost over $150.00 in a poker game, "printed paper to be used in the outhouse to wipe your ass!"

Life went on and Adam carried out his duties on the ranch and at the sawmill and the one mine they still worked. It was almost supper time and since it was a day in May, the sun hadn't yet set and the sky was showing a variety of reds and yellows as it prepared to leave the world in the black-blue of night.

As Adam rode into the yard and dismounted, his father came from the house, a look of worry on his face.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Adam dropped his horse's reins.

"I don't know about wrong – you have a visitor, says that you sent for her?"

"What? Sent for her?" And then he realized who it was. Adam looked at the house. Perhaps it wasn't her. "What is her name?"

"Mary David – she says."

"Mary. So that's what the M stood for. Not very original."

"From what I gather, and it took me a while to get it from her, she's Russian. Has an accent, albeit a slight one."

Adam's heart sank. He thought of Mrs. Ivanova; she and her husband owned a small restaurant in Virginia City. She was squat and stout, her mouth permanently turned down at the corners. Her bosom was a large shelf and her meaty hips spanned almost a yard across. Now he had his own "Mrs. Ivanova" waiting to marry him. "Not a beauty, I suppose."

"I would say that's a matter of opinion."

The son cocked his head, looked at his father's face which now revealed nothing. "And what is your opinion?"

"I'd say she's…quite pretty."

Adam breathed a little easier. "Quite pretty?"

"Yes … in an odd, exotic sort of way. She thought I was you at first. When she took my hand, she kissed the back of it, said she hoped I was pleased with her and that although she hadn't expected a wealthy man with property, I was what she had imagined, what she had hoped for, which I guess means an older man who wants a wife to take care of him in a few years' time. And to be honest, I wouldn't have minded if I was the one."

"You, Pa?" Adam's mouth turned up slightly. The old man still had the embers of desire burning. "Maybe she just wants an older husband who won't be around to pester her for long."

"Very funny, Adam, but as I said, I find her quite pretty. But um…how old did she tell you she was?"

Ah, there it was, Adam thought. This woman had lied; instead of being 24, she was more than likely 44 or even older in years. No wonder his father found her attractive as she was closer to his age. "She said she was 24. Doesn't she look it?"

"I suppose she could be 24, but … well, I'm no judge of a woman's age anyway." Ben shrugged. "But come in and meet her. She's probably wondering what's taking so long."

Adam was now even more cautious; things didn't seem right. "How long has she been here?"

"Almost three hours and other than a cup of tea she has refused all food. Hop Sing's not too pleased about that. She's been waiting rather patiently for you, but she's not much of a conversationalist so I'm glad you're here."

Adam pursed his lips. He reached down and picked up his horse's reins. "I don't think I want to see her. Take her to the hotel, give her some money and send her on her way." Adam turned to mount up again, to ride out, perhaps to town and sit outside the saloon and wait to see the prospective bride put away into a room of the Imperial Hotel. But his father held onto his arm, staying him.

"You sent for her, Adam."

"Yes, but I didn't expect her to come."

"Well, now, that makes a great deal of sense. Look, Adam, she came all this way – she said from Pennsylvania and she wants to return part of the money; she said you overpaid. If you want her sent away, you'll have to do it yourself."

Adam sighed. He was embarrassed and ashamed of his weakness that had made his basically "buy" a bride. "Yes. I suppose you're right." Adam looked at the house again. While he had been talking to his father, the night had begun to drop over them and the windows emanated the warm, yellow glow of the lamps inside.

"Adam, is she…a bride? Did you buy a bride?"

"I suppose in a manner, I did." He dropped his horse's reins again and the beast, disappointed at not being taken to the barn and fed, nodded its head up and down and snuffled and then, dropping its head, satisfying itself by cropping the grass in the yard. Yes, Adam thought, looking at his horse, some satisfaction can be found anywhere, even if it is less than desired. And he headed for the house to meet the woman he had thought would never arrive.


	4. Chapter 4

**I wrote for a few hours to be able to post this chapter as I have no idea when I will be able to write the next one. There is a hurricane a'comin' and I have preparations to make. Also, I'm pretty certain I'll lose cable and power. Forgive any errors/typos as I wrote quickly and attempted to change anything that the program identified as incorrect. And I hope that when I get back to this story, you will continue to read. Thanks.**

 **The Dark Bride**

When Adam opened the front door and stepped into the house, he saw her shoulders barely above the back of the settee. She wore a prim black bonnet. Slowly, she shifted sideways to see Adam and if it was possible for her to turn any paler than her already milky complexion, she would have. But as Adam stepped further into the room, she stood, and then clasped her gloved hands primly in front of her. Ben came around Adam after closing the door.

"This is my son, Adam. It was he who wrote you." Ben stood awkwardly as Adam and the woman stood looking at one another..

"I have come a way to meet you, Mr. Cartwright." The woman bowed her head slightly.

Adam nodded in reply, not quite sure what to make of "Mary David".

"I have this… to return to you." The young woman, for young she was, looking even younger than Adam expected, opened her reticule and pulled out a pouch made of a handkerchief. It's four corners had been tied together to form a packet of sorts. She stepped closer to Adam who still hadn't fully entered the room, and extended her hand. "It is the money left from the purchase of my train fare; you sent me more than it cost. I want to return the unspent amount."

Adam looked at the small packet of coins and for some reason, it moved him. The handkerchief was of inexpensive muslin, a coarse oatmeal color, and it was just a small pouch containing coins – the weight of them was obvious.

"No," he said. "You keep the money. If things aren't to your liking, you have the money to leave and go back home."

"If things aren't to _your_ liking," she clarified, "if I am not to your liking, I will certainly leave, but I will not return from whence I came. I will never return there." She raised the packet of coins again. "Please take your money. I will not keep it."

Father and son looked to one another and the visitor caught the glance. She had expected a lonely, older man and was both pleased and relieved when the older, gray-haired man with the kind, gentle, dark eyes, took her hand and invited her into the fine house, saying, yes, he was Mr. Cartwright. She had been so overwhelmed by gratitude, so happy that he was kind, that she had kissed his hand in appreciation. But this younger man before her, this man with the dark looks, the intense gaze – she wasn't sure if she wanted him for a husband. Mary decided that his hand, she would not have kissed as he would have reacted differently from his father; this man may have laughed in derision at her gesture.

Adam took the money, and with one hand holding the packet, he unfolded the ends and emptied the handkerchief on the table behind the settee which also held the Cartwright family Bible. The coins clanked heavily onto the wooden table top and Adam quickly surmised it was about $150.00. There, side by side, was the material aspects of the world and the spiritual.

"Here," he handed the handkerchief back to Mary. She nodded and folded it neatly and replaced it inside her reticule. Adam watched her small, hands as they deftly moved and then she looked up at him. She was more than merely pretty, he decided, she was a beauty, although not the golden bride he had hoped for, not the one to shine like a sun. Her face was pale, a small widow's peak making it seem heart-shaped. Her mouth was small but full. But what took Adam's attention were her large, dark eyes. They seemed to bore into him with their intensity of expression, lined with dark, sooty, lashes and black brows above them, jarring against her paleness. She met his eyes almost unblinking.

"Please, sit down," Adam said. Mary did and Adam quickly tossed his hat onto the chest by the door and undid his gun belt.

"I'll go take care of your horse," Ben said. The situation was awkward and he wanted to leave them alone.

Mary sat with her hands folded, still wearing her bonnet, a small, worn carpetbag at her feet. "Won't you take off your hat?" Adam asked. "And, you can stay here for the night. There's no one to talk, to gossip. The ranch hands are on a trail drive. No one will think it's scandalous and trust me, you'll be left unmolested as I have no interest in you and I'm sure my father doesn't either."

"Thank you for your hospitality." She wasn't insulted by the fact neither man found her desirable. She untied the bonnet ribbons and took it off, smoothing her dark hair that was pulled into a modest chignon, with her hands, then pulled off her gloves. She offered a smile – a small one, but the smile touched Adam's heart.

"Then you will stay for dinner and the night. In the morning, we can talk."

"I would prefer to settle this now; I do not want to stay only to be turned out in the morning. I have come to be married. All I ask in a husband, as I wrote, is kindness. I am willing to work hard, keep house, tend animals, and bear children. I make no demands except that I be clothed and fed and…treated kindly. As for being loved, I find love is not important in a marriage as few people remain in that state. Better to be able to live and tolerate a spouse than claim affection that disappears like the morning fog." Mary, finished, sat silently waiting.

"In the morning," Adam began, "things may look different. Tomorrow, I'll take you out on the property, let you see what this country is like. It may not fit your temperament – and I may not either. We both deserve to spend some time together before we decide to spend the rest of our lives … apart."

"Perhaps you're correct, Mr. Cartwright. There is an oft-quoted saying in my country, 'If you go to war, pray once, if you go on a sea journey, pray twice, but pray three times if you are to be married.' For some it is considered the most dangerous journey. Perhaps we should take a few days to decide either way."

Dinner was a solemn affair as no matter how much Ben and Adam tried to involve Mary David in conversation, she was loath to talk and said little about herself. To the question of how long she had been in the country, she answered that it had been since she was a young girl and left it at that. Adam said, in a manner of conversation that "Mary" didn't seem like a Russian name – and she was Russian, correct? In her longest sentence yet, she replied her name was actually Marina but since she had arrived in America, she had been called Mary.

Adam looked to his father who raised his brows in question.

"If you would prefer, we, that is my father and I, will call you Marina."

"Marina - Mary, whatever is easier for your tongue."

Ben smiled; Adam had found himself an agreeable wife – who was disagreeable at the same time. It amused him to see Adam unsettled.

Marina ate very little no matter how much Hop Sing hovered about in hopes the guest would eat more, waiting for a compliment on his cooking. But with one hand on the napkin in her lap, Marina attempted to be accommodating. Adam noticed that although calm on the outside, there was turmoil beneath her pale looks. And the more he looked at Marina, admired the shape of her face, the elegant way her jawline flowed into her round neck, he decided that she grew more beautiful before his eyes – almost as if he was being bewitched - and he sensed the beginning of desire build. The thought of going upstairs with this woman every night of his life appealed to him. With crystal clarity, Adam realized how much he wanted a wife and wanted Marina to be that wife. And that night, as he lay in his bed unable to sleep, Adam softly repeated her name and it took on a poetic essence. Marina. It was like the sigh of a contented man.

After a breakfast served by a glum, muttering Hop Sing, Adam took Marina out in the buggy. He would glance over at her and smile when he saw her eyes wide with wonder.

"All of this is your family's?"

"Yes."

"I would be a wealthy woman should you marry me." She eyed him warily.

Adam laughed. "Yes, you would be."

"And how did your family come by such great wealth? Have you killed people so you could have so much?"

"A few - but we didn't steal the land, if that's what you're implying. There were those who would take it from us – and many tried – and some we had to kill. It's never preferable but sometimes it's the only way."

They rode in silence for a few moments. Then Marina spoke. "I have heard much about Indians. Did they own this land before you?"

"I suppose you could say that."

"And you stole it from them? Killed them?" Marina turned and met Adam's eyes.

"Yes, we did. All this land out west, actually this whole country was taken from the Indians, so in a manner, I suppose, yes, we did kill them for it and stole it from them." Adam waited; he had no idea from her face, what Marina was thinking.

"The wealthy people in Russia, the 'aristokratiya,' they took the land from the people, enslaving the Russian poor, making them, as is said in English, serfs – 'krepostnoy' – slaves to work the land for their masters for only a sack of potatoes, a bit of pork and a few cabbages. If the family took more than allowed, stole some extra grain for bread because the children were starving, they were beaten. Who works your land for you?"

"We do, my brothers, my father and I."

"Does he beat you if you don't work hard enough?"

Adam half-smiled. "No. And as for laborers, we hire lumberjacks, miners and ranch hands to help with the cattle. They're given a fair wage. We don't have slaves or serfs or what was the word? Krepostnoy." Marina nodded but said nothing. "When did you leave Russia, Marina? When did you come to this country?"

"It is of no consequence when; I am here now." Marina looked away at the surrounding countryside.

Her dismissive answer annoyed Adam; he was more accustomed to receiving quick answers to his questions. Without warning, Adam snapped the horse's reins. The horse, startled, jerked forward, and Marina was thrown off-balance. But she didn't call out in surprise, chastise him, or lean into Adam for support – Marina just gripped the side of the buggy and held on. Nor did she angrily ask if he was trying to toss her out of the buggy as many women would have. Marina's self-reliance, her acceptance of whatever happens, gave Adam pause. He didn't know what to make of the beautiful, foreign-born woman sitting beside him; she was an enigma.

That evening, Adam took Marina onto the porch. The moon was partially hidden behind clouds and the stars shone through in the breaks of the coverage. But in the porchlight, Adam could see Marina's face and she seemed much younger than her 24 years.

"I am reminded of my childhood on nights like this," Marina said quietly. "Long ago, as a child, I had no thought or desire to live anywhere but on our small plot of land. Now I find myself as…the words are in the English Bible…a stranger in a strange land."

"The story of Moses and Zipporah. 'And she bare him a son'," Adam said from memory, " 'and he called his name Gershom, for he said, I have been a stranger in a strange land'."

Marina smiled gently. "You know your Bible well, about Moses and his son. I am glad you are a man of religion."

"I know my Bible because I had to memorize passages in school or have my palms smacked with a ruler. As for having religion, well…" Adam looked up at the sky. "I find it difficult to believe that our lives are run by some grand, omnipotent spirit in the heavens."

"Oh, but it is true," Marina said earnestly. "I prayed, said a novena to our beloved Holy Mother petitioning a kind man answer my advertisement and on the 9th day, I received your letter."

Marina's face seemed so pure, so innocent that Adam was moved. "Marina, I doubt I'm an answer to anyone's prayer but I've become a lonely man." Adam found that the words had come unheeded; he had never openly confessed to the yearning in his soul. "I want a wife – there aren't many available women in this area - but I resisted sending for a bride even though both my brothers did and found women - wives. They're both happy in their choices and their wives are as well."

"Or so they seem," Marina said. "Women endure many things. It is our lot in life."

"If you believe that, why come to me – a man you don't know? I could have been a … you had no idea what I was like and yet you came." Marina just looked at him and gave a slight shrug but her eyes glistened with unshed tears in the light.

Adam continued. "The idea of marrying a virtual stranger never seemed wise to me – maybe even dangerous. Nevertheless, I did send for one and you're here. I never expected a great beauty – after all, why would such a woman be available? Yet, you are a beautiful woman, Marina. But that isn't why I will take you as a wife – if you accept, that is. I want a woman to share my bed and to be here when I need…" He couldn't say that he often had need of comforting, of a woman's gentle hands and soft voice when his dreams were invaded by the horrors of the war, so he stopped.

"I'm not a violent man although I can be…ill-humored at times. If you can tolerate that, then we will get along well. It would be nice to have a woman, a wife, who loved me but that takes time – a courtship—and we don't have that luxury. Perhaps one day you will love me, if you find me deserving. So, Marina David, will you accept my offer of marriage?"

They sat in silence and then she looked up at Adam. "Yes, Mr. Cartwright, I will." The small, dark-haired woman dropped her eyes. "But you should know – and you may retract your offer with no unkind feelings on my part – that I do not come to you untouched." Then she raised her eyes again and looked at the man who might soon bed her. The sound of her heart's beating filled her ears as she waited for the words from his mouth.

"I'm not surprised - you were married. I mean 'David' isn't a Russian surname."

"No, I have never been married. My father's name was Davidov. Although my name is actually Marina, my parents called me Marishka – a name given in love – what you call, a nickname. When I came to this country, I was told by the sea captain who brought me, that I was no longer to be called Marina Davidova but from then on, I was only to be called Mary David. He spoke only little Russian but I understood."

Adam watched the eerie calm about her; it was as if none of it had touched her, having her identity changed, her name stripped from her. "There are many things that happen to a person that leave marks," Adam said, "scars that affect both our bodies and our minds. Sadly, it's a common thing and of really no matter to me as far as who you are, what your past is." Adam moved closer and put out his hands. She took them. "If marriage is what you desire, we'll be married day after tomorrow. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright, that is not only acceptable but preferable. I would like to start my life here as soon as I can."

"To forget the old one?"

Marina waited, judging the man's meaning, his intent, as his face gave no hint at his heart. "I will try."

"You can begin by calling me Adam – not Mr. Cartwright."

"Yes, I will call you Adam – the first man's name."

"Yes, well…" Adam wanted to retort that by her own admission, he wasn't her "first man," but stifled the urge. His sardonic nature would need to be curbed.

That night, after Marina had gone to her room, Adam told his father that he had asked Marina to marry him and she had accepted.

"Adam, I don't know about this. She's…she's hiding something – I know it. And you're what? Almost fifteen years older?"

"I know she's keeping something from me, but it doesn't really matter. I've been a bachelor a long time, Pa, and I'm lonely."

"But you barely know her!" Ben saw Adam cock one eyebrow. "I know, I know, Joe married Bernice without knowing her long and then Hoss and Hennie, but, Adam…" Ben sighed and sat back, holding his pipe.

"And you left for New Orleans and came back with Joe's mother and she was 12 years younger than you," Adam parried.

"All right, Adam. Don't throw it in my face, but Marie's situation was different."

"That's just it, Pa," Adam said, standing up. "Every woman is different and while neither Bernice nor Hennie appeal to me, Marina does. We're going to be married day after tomorrow."

"I'm surprised it's not tomorrow - you're so determined to take a wife."

Adam was amused. "Tomorrow I have some business of my own in Carson City. I do want to ask you though … I'd like to give Marina my mother's ring, if you have no objection."

Ben was surprised; he had forgotten about the ring given to Adam so long ago. His mother hadn't been able to wear it the last few months of her pregnancy, her fingers had swollen so. And now, another woman would be wearing it. He wanted to forbid Adam from given this strange, foreign woman Elizabeth's ring, but knew he couldn't.

"Of course, Adam. That's why I gave it to you – for your wife one day. And I suppose that day has come."

Adam noticed the uneasiness on his father's face but thought about how pleased Marina would be with the engraved rose-gold band when he slipped it on her finger. He just hoped it would fit.

Adam left early, before dawn, just downing coffee and cold biscuits from the previous night's dinner. It was after dark when he returned and his father was still sitting up waiting for him as he always had.

"I'm glad you're home – I was getting concerned."

"Sorry to have worried you. Is Marina still here?" After taking a wrapped, narrow box out of his pocket, Adam pulled off his trail jacket, looking at the stairs.

"Of course, she's here. Where should she go?"

"No place, I suppose, but I…I considered she might think I was deserting her after being gone so long or she thought better and left." Adam picked up the box and held it up for his father to see. "Carson City didn't have what I wanted so I had to go to Genoa. Found it there."

"Found what?"

"A wedding gift for Marina. I want to give her something after we're married."

Ben sighed; he had hoped Adam had a change of heart about the wedding. "I'm sure she'll be happy with it." Ben didn't ask what it was and Adam didn't volunteer.

"I hope so. Now, I have to take a bath. It was a hot ride and a man can't stink like a horse's ass at his own wedding."

Ben nodded. He almost told Adam that Marina had bathed as well but he didn't want to raise the specter of the upcoming intimacy. And after Adam left, Ben recalled how Marina had looked sitting on the porch earlier that evening, combing out the dark, wet stands of her hair to urge them to dry. And through the open window, her voice drifted in as she sang a simple song in Russian. Ben had stood and watched her through the narrow window, the night beginning to fall. She was like a water princess in a fantastical story, combing out her hair and singing a siren's song to capture all men who heard. And Ben felt the old stirrings in his blood caused by a beautiful, desirable woman and he envied his eldest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to all who sent their good thoughts and prayers. I managed through it all with help from family. I wrote a bit this morning. It's difficult to be creative when there is so much to do but I needed a break. If I didn't thank anyone personally for their concern or didn't respond to a review, I apologize. Hopefully my life and all the lives of others who have been victims of nature lately, will not have such tragic events repeated.**

 **The Eldest Weds Part 1**

The next morning, Adam Stoddard Cartwright and Marina Alyosha Davidova were married in the Clerk of Court's office in Virginia City. Hoss and Hennie, she, wearing her best blue wool dress with a prim hat, stood as best man and matron of honor although they served legally as witnesses. Little Joe stood behind them, alongside the father who looked at his newly-expanded family, wondering how life could alter so quickly. Bernice was now too heavy with child, too close to her time to make the trip to Virginia City and waited at the big house with a busy, fussing Hop Sing preparing the marriage feast.

To take the marriage vows, Marina wore the same gray wool traveling suit, the same black bonnet in which she had arrived. The only concession to adornment was a small silver-framed cameo at the neck of her suit. It had been her mother's only treasure and she had pinned it to the inside of her daughter's dress before they said goodbye at the Russian port. Marina hoped that if her parents were now dead, their spirits were joyful in heaven at seeing their daughter married to a wealthy, handsome American. Marina glanced up at the man with whom she was joining in life and considered that indeed, he was pleasing to the eye – but so dark and secret that she wondered if he would ever reveal the depths of himself. But then she considered, perhaps she was better off not knowing.

Despite Ben's disapproval of the over-hasty marriage and Little Joe and Hennie's observations that Adam had married quite the beauty, albeit a silent one, Adam was pleased with his wife. As they stood before the clerk, Marina leaned toward him slightly as if she was aligning herself with him and her nearness filled his heart. And the fact that the engraved gold band slid easily onto Marina's finger and fit, was like a sign to Adam, that is, he told himself, if he believed in signs.

The meal Hop Sing had prepared was a feast of which he was proud. He stood by smiling as Marina's face showed her surprise and delight. Adam claimed Hop Sing had outdone himself. The best china and crystal sparkled on the linen-covered table illuminated by lit candelabras. A variety of dishes that Hop Sing insisted presaged a happy marriage – roast suckling pig, stuffed chicken, piles of noodles, mounded fried rice with chopped vegetables, and for dessert, a platter of small marriage cakes decorated with slivers of red and green candied fruits.

"Much butter – very delicate – melt in mouth. You see," Hop Sing told Marina.

The father, Ben, raised his glass to toast the new couple and all joined in but the eyes of the others kept focusing on the new bride and groom. The attention embarrassed Marina and she lowered her eyes, glancing sidelong at her husband. She wondered if she had made a deal with the devil or if he had truly been sent by the Holy Mother Mary?

"Why I just thought of somethin'," Hoss said, grinning. "We should have a shivaree for the newlyweds, right, Joe? Get all our friends to make a big old noise outside their room all night so ol' Adam here can't do his duty."

Hennie made a bawdy comment about how a man's singlemindedness on his wedding night can overcome any clanking pots, sour singing, and gunshots fired off in good-natured fun and poked her husband in his side. "Do you remember, my husband, how determined you were?" Hoss picked up his wife's hand, rough with all the washing and cleaning, and placed it to his lips. After the kiss, he smiled broadly.

"Well, as you can see," Joe said, placing one hand on his wife's full belly, "I've been doing my duty to my wife." Bernice blushed but laughed and placed her hand over her husband's as it rested on their yet-to-be-born child.

All laughed but Marina. Adam turned to her, telling her that it was all in jest, all in fun. "Don't take such things too seriously." And then he felt it was time for the gift. "But…wait…I do have a wedding gift for you," he said smiling.

"Why you gonna give it to her right here, Adam?" Hoss asked with mock shock. "Right here on the table? It'll take away our appetites!" Everyone laughed but Marina again seemed confused by the subtlety of sexual innuendo.

Adam told them to shut up and then he returned with the long, narrow box wrapped in thick flowered paper and tied with a green ribbon.

"For you. I knew what I wanted to get you but had to travel far to find it. That's why I was gone all day."

Marina smiled shyly and then undid the bow and removed the paper. She opened the box and instead of the pleasure Adam expected, Marina, snapped shut the box and sat it on the table, looked at Adam in shock. She covered her face with her small hands.

"Marina, I…" Adam was confused. Perhaps she was happy and that was why she cried, but he doubted it.; her face had told a different story. He sat back down and took one of her hands.

"What the…?" Ben asked, He reached for the box, opened it and saw a strand of beautiful, glistening pearls. Their luster was obvious in the light from the candles and their color and shape were perfect. He drew them out of the box and held the strand for all to see.

"You do not know," Marina said, tears wetting her cheeks. "Pearls are a gift of tears – the Holy Mother's tears, and to give them as a wedding gift…oh, Adam, there will be many tears ahead for us." Marina suddenly rose, and sobbing ran up the stairs to the guest room where she had been staying.

Adam stood up and looked at the dumbfounded faces of his family. "I didn't know…" He too, left the tale and took the stairs two at a time.

"Pa, Hoss said, "we ought to go."

"Yes, yes," Hennie agreed. And Joe and Bernice also left, the gifts to the bride and groom not yet opened. All left the house but the father and the unfortunate newlyweds. Even Hop Sing, who had decided to spend the evening and the next day with family in Chinatown, left after quickly washing the dishes. A pall had fallen over the house as dark as the night that now surrounded the Ponderosa.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Eldest Weds Part II**

"Marishka," Adam said quietly as his bride lay sobbing on the bed. "I didn't know your belief about pearls, but surely you can't think that a mere string of pearls presages unhappiness for us. People make their own happiness, not anything else, especially not a piece of jewelry. It's foolish to think that. Marishka, listen to me…" Adam caressed her dark hair and suddenly, Marina sprung up and threw her arms about his neck, clinging to him with desperation.

"I wish so much for happiness, my husband, not just selfishly for myself, but for you as well." Then, a bit embarrassed by her action, she released him and wiped away her tears.

He noticed his new wife's embarrassment at her emotional outburst. "Perhaps," Adam said, "the tears you've already shed will suffice to fulfill your superstition. What do you think?" Adam bent down to look at her lowered face. "You should be happy on your wedding day – not full of sadness. How do you think it looks for you to cry today of all days?" Marina smiled bravely, but Adam knew she was still uneasy and he regretted his choice of gift.

The couple went downstairs and Marina apologized to Ben for her behavior. "We have many years of beliefs, of superstitions, my people do. I think I may have more…" she struggled with the words as if trying to think in English was difficult. "I believe that Hop Sing's people, the Chinese, are much like mine. Our world is inhabited by spirits and omens and all we can do as humans is placate them when possible and not arouse their antipathy. I know that I am childish in many ways, but my mother, she often told me what foretells tragedy and I…I cannot help but remember all her warnings."

Ben assured Marina that it was of no consequence – it had been an emotional day for them all and often superstitions are a comfort - "or a curse on one's mind. I have avoided black cats with the best of them," Ben said with a laugh, but Marina look puzzled. "A black cat crossing your path means bad luck," Ben explained. "It's a foolish superstition."

Ben decided to turn in early and the bride and groom climbed the stairs, Adam taking Marina's hand, and led her to his bedroom – their bedroom. Much to their surprise, the bed had been turned down and red mountain sorrel had been strewn on the bed for luck and happiness. "It must be part of Hop Sing's beliefs," Adam explained. "Red is the color of luck."

And despite Adam's concerns over taking his wife that night, he needn't have worried for he didn't have to take her - she gave herself to him. Once they were in the bed with the fresh linens, Adam gently tugged up Marina's gown to slip his hand underneath and feel the silkiness of her skin, the roundness of her breasts. He found that there was much in his new bride to delight him. Her dark, scented hair was thick, the lushness filling his hands as he held her face to admire her dark eyes and kiss her small mouth. She was soft and yielding and threw her arms about him as if he was the one for whom she had waited all her life. And yet he wondered if she would ever love him as he felt his heart open to her as her legs opened to him. And that night he slept well, his head on the soft bosom of his new wife. His dreams were filled with opening, fragrant blossoms and water, softly flowing over him, soothing him. And as time went by, Adam no longer woke in a sweat, his heart pounding, terrified of the surrounding darkness.

A month went by and Adam was happy with his wife and Marina welcomed her husband into her arms every night, much to his joy. Adam was pleased she was beautiful and responded to his kisses and caresses. But there was only one thing he believed she must want but didn't have. As both her sisters-in-law had, Marina most surely wanted a home of her own. One evening, Adam offered to build one and to take her for a ride to choose the place. "There are some beautiful spots on the Ponderosa. We have our choice."

"A house? But your father is old and we can't leave him alone. I can be happy here?"

"But, Marishka, you can have your own house to run and I'll hire a cook and housekeeper, and a maid – a lady's maid to help you dress. You can live like a fine lady, Marishka, not having to raise a hand. I would think you'd like that." It had been a long day and Adam wasn't inclined to listen to any complaint when he was trying so hard to please his wife in all ways.

"I have been in other people's homes my whole life and I yearn, one day, to have a home of my own. I would like a stove of my own and a small parlor for Sunday visitors. And, if God wishes, children to raise. But it is not right to turn your back on your father in his later years. He is now of the age at which children should take care of their parents; it is the way to live. If we had a home and he did not, we would take him in to live with us, care for him all his years."

For the first time, Adam felt annoyance with his wife. How could she reject his offer to build her a house, a grand house if that was what she wanted? There were many spots on the Ponderosa with more beautiful views than this house. This spot had been chosen for protection from Indians, had been built to resist Indian attack. Won't she even take a ride with him to look at sites, he asked?

Marina acknowledged Adam's argument but protested, "I am pleased with living here. I tend the vegetable garden – and your father has planted a berry patch for me. I will be able to make berry pies. And I help with the chickens and cows. Just yesterday, I caught and prepared the chicken for dinner. I have all these things to keep my hands busy other than just my needlework. I am content."

Adam stood in silence, looking at his wife's lovely head as she bowed over the mass of the dark-green fabric in her lap that spilled over beside her onto the settee. She was hemming the skirt of a dress she was making, her needle deftly slipping through the fabric.

"You should buy your dresses – have them made instead of doing all that work yourself," Adam said, his ill-humor showing. He was tired and wanted just to have his dinner and rest along with his wife and father in the sitting room with a glass of brandy and a book but right now, Marina should be thanking him and showering kisses on him for his generosity in wanting to give her everything.

"Why should I buy a dress when I can make one for only a part of what a dressmaker would charge? I am capable. I don't see that one should buy items just because one can. Waste is waste." Marina looked up at Adam, her face pale and calm.

"You always have an answer, don't you? You won't concede I may be correct in these things. You've married a wealthy man and yet you go about in plain bonnets and homespun dresses. People expect more of you when you go to town. I swear, even the whores dress better than you."

Adam suddenly wished he had never spoken the words. Marina looked as if he had struck her with his open palm.

"I'm sorry, Marishka….I." Adam crouched down before his wife who wouldn't look at him but continued with her needlework. "Please." Adam stopped her hand with his and she slipped her small hand out from under his, twisting it so as not to stick him with the needle. Then she raised her face and her dark eyes reflected nothing – no emotion, nothing anymore, but Adam continued. "I apologize. I'm just…I'm tired and I just wanted an argument, I suppose."

"It is I who should apologize. I should listen to your opinion. You're generous and kind to me, everything I could hope for. I am only sorry I am not what you hoped I would be."

"Marishka, you're more than I hoped for. I don't know why I say the things I do. Please, accept my apology."

"Of course, I do. But you owe me no apology. You provide for me, give me food and a place to live and ask for nothing but that I perform my duty to you. I am grateful."

His wife confused him; obviously, at least to him, she didn't seem to particularly care for him – he was just a means to an end. Adam felt that Marina had closed off some part of herself to him and wouldn't allow him any closer. He dropped his head; he had been unkind, and kindness was all Marina had desired in a husband. But he would make it up to her; the next time he went to Virginia City, he would buy her lengths of tatted lace and velvet ribbon, cards of pearl buttons, along with yards of the finest fabrics the mercantile had.

That night when Adam bedded his wife, she was as compliant as always, as eager as ever for their joining, but Adam felt Marina was hiding pain from him. Every past night Adam was home and not away on Ponderosa business, they would lay together in the dark and Adam would talk, confide his problems and his concerns. Marina would listen, comfort him, and if he was suffering from a headache, she would massage peppermint oil into his tempers. Adam had come to depend on her, and the end of each day's work, he became more and more eager as he came closer and closer to the house. But Adam felt that the hurtful things he had said, no matter the apology, had slipped a wedge between them. And he was sorry, sincerely sorry, but knew of nothing but time that might ease the situation.

In the middle of a dark, dark night, Little Joe came to the house, banging on the huge oak door. Adam, holding his gun, opened the door.

"It's Bernice," Joe said, panic in his voice. "The baby's coming. I need to get back to her. Would you go fetch Doc Martin, Adam?"

"Who is it?" Ben asked as he stood on the stairs.

"It's Joe. It's Bernice's time." Then Adam turned back to his frightened brother. "Let me dress and I'll go." As Joe turned to leave, Adam started to close the door but Marina, who stood behind him, barefoot and in her gown, put out her hand to stop him.

"How long has she had pain?" Marina asked.

"I don't really know – she woke me, crying. She's scared of it all."

"I'll go back with you," Marina said. "I may be able to comfort her."

Joe smiled a sad smile but the overwhelming relief of Marina, a woman, returning with him, made his legs weaken; his sister-in-law was coming to help his wife in her terror. It is well known that women need each other at times like birth.

Marina sat with Bernice, holding her hand, while Joe paced in their kitchen, drinking coffee and worrying. He could hear his wife's deep, low moans from down the hall, and then the sound of panic in her voice as the pain became sharp and cut through her body. But always came Marina's soft, calm voice that seemed to soothe Bernice.

Time crawled and Bernice's cries came closer together, barely giving her time to breathe between. Then Adam was there with the doctor who immediately went to the bedroom. But he was too late to deliver the baby for Marina met the doctor with the infant bundled in her arms.

"The child is born," Marina said wearily to the doctor. "Bernice is still bleeding but not too much." The doctor went into the bedroom, closing the door and Marina went on to the kitchen where the brothers sat.

"You have a daughter," Marina said smiling. Joe reached out for his child and Adam noticed how his wife seemed reluctant to hand the child over. But she did.

Joe beamed with joy and then he became serious. "And Bernice?"

"She is fine, very tired," Marina said with a tremulous smile. "The doctor is checking her but she was smiling and holding her daughter. The joy of children makes a woman forget the pain."

"Then this deserves a drink!" Adam heartily agreed and Joe handed the child to Marina who gladly took her, cooing to her, and Joe and Adam had a toast to the newest Cartwright's health.

As Adam drove his wife home, he was full of happiness for his brother and sister-in-law. He was saying how happy his father would be when he heard of the birth of his first grandchild who would be named Felicia Marie. And Marina broke into sobs, covering her face with her small hands.

"Marishka," Adam asked, "what is it?" He considered pulling up the horse but they were close to home.

She silently shook her head and wouldn't speak. Then she pulled herself up straight and looked ahead, pulling her shawl more closely about her. The hair that had come loose from her single braid, whipped about her face; a strong wind had come up. The only thing Marina said was, "It is nothing; we need to be home."

Adam could see the sun was rising as there was a red glow in the east and the air had an odd smell; even the horses knew; there would be a storm. The night was almost gone and he could see the dark clouds gathering.

"It's going to rain. It's going to be a bad one." Adam said. But still, Marina said nothing.

All that day it rained and Hop Sing complained about the pelting his garden was taking. "Too much wet cause rot!"

Ben wanted to visit his new granddaughter and hold her but was frustrated by the constant, hard rain. And Marina sat with her needlework. Often, she would stop, lost in thought. Then, as if with renewed vigor, she would go back to the infant gown she was making. But to Adam, his wife seemed feverish with flushed cheeks and an intensity that disturbed him. So, he paced, cursing the rain and feeling weariness come over him from being up almost all night.

The rain beat down all through dinner and since everyone in the house had slept only for a short time the night before, by 8:00, they were all in bed. But while Ben Cartwright and Hop Sing snored behind their closed doors, Adam waited to talk to his wife.

Adam, sitting against the headboard, the covers pulled to his waist, watched Marina as she disrobed, took off her corset and petticoats, her pantalettes, and then, slipping her gown over her head, removed her chemise, stepping out of it. She slid her arms through the sleeves of the nightgown and picked up the chemise she had worn all day.

"Why do you hide from me?" Adam asked. He had never remarked on it before although it was her habit from the beginning.

"Modesty in a woman is a virtue and to be valued," she said. "Especially in a wife."

"And who told you that?" Adam reached for his wife to draw her to him.

"It is well-known. Every girl child is told that."

Adam gave a small laugh. "That may be but you don't have to cover yourself in front of me."

"Perhaps, one day…" She ignored Adam's outstretched arm and kneeled at the foot of the bed, her back to him. She closed her eyes to pray but her eyes burned behind their thick lashes.

Adam waited. Most evenings Marina said her prayers privately in the small bedroom she had used when she first arrived. Just as Hop Sing had set up an altar to his household gods, burning incense and offering up prayers, so Marina had done placing a small embroidered cloth on a bedside table. On this table, sitting between two candles, sat an image of the Virgin Mary painted on a copper oval – an icon – and at the edge of the table, sat a Bible. A few times Adam had seen Marina kneeling, so small with her dark head bowed, and she would pray in hushed tones. He never interrupted her, just mentioned one night that he didn't pray, couldn't make sense of it. "That is of no consequence," Marina had said. "I pray for you."

It intrigued him though, so once Adam went into the room and looked at her Bible, hoping to find some information on his wife. In the Cartwright family Bible were recorded marriages, deaths and births starting from five generations back. Adam picked up the Bible and realized, as he smiled sardonically, it was in Russian, written in Cyrillic. He looked at the back extra pages always left blank by the publisher, and there were names and some dates but they too were written in Russian. Although Adam recognized some of the letters in the Bible – A, B, E, K, a reverse R and the Greek sign for Phi - he couldn't read any of it. He recalled then that Marina never sat with her Bible in the evenings, reading it although his father often read a smaller one that had been Inger's. Adam realized that Marina more than likely couldn't read in her native language. Nor did Marina ever pick up one of the many volumes of books on the shelves downstairs or in his room. Adam wondered if she could read at all and once asked her to write a list of items she would like from town but she seemed anxious and said she wanted nothing. But she seemed to avoid writing anything. She probably couldn't read, Adam deduced, and it had touched his heart and he became more indulgent of her; she was childlike in many ways and it only endeared her to him more. But it did raise the question about the advertisement and her letter; if Marina hadn't written them, who had?

But that night, Adam wanted to discuss his wife's tears. Finishing her prayers, Marina climbed into the bed beside her husband and pulled the covers up to her neck; the room was chilly despite the fire Adam had built. She closed her eyes and Adam leaned over to turn down the lamp. A minute or so passed before Adam's deep voice broke the silence. "Why were you crying, Marishka? If you choose not to bare your body to me, at least bare your heart. Don't keep your pain from me. I want to take it from you, ease your hurt."

Marina said nothing. She felt the mattress sink as Adam moved closer and slipped an arm under her waist, drawing her to him. She could feel his breath on her cheek and knew she had to answer him. A lie sprung first to her lips but with Adam, the truth was a necessity.

"I had a child once. That's all."

Adam sat up; he hadn't expected that. "A child? What happened? Marishka, tell me! Look at me! Tell me!" He pulled her up and held her by her upper arms. Her eyes were wide with terror as he shook her once. "Tell me! What happened to your child."

"I had a child…I don't anymore. Please, don't ask me anymore. Please. If you care the least for me, if you would be kind, don't ask anything else."

But Adam wanted to ask. With whom did she create a child? With whom had she lain and kissed and borne his babe? Had she sworn to love this man eternally? Was that why her heart always seemed hidden from him – because it belonged to another? Marina had said she hadn't come to him untouched, but there had been no mention of a child. And now she was asking him not to inquire.

He felt his muscles tense. He wanted to shake her until her eyes rolled in her head, to drag the truth from her with threats of putting her out. But he couldn't. Not her. "All right. I won't ask any more tonight. I'm willing to wait, but I need to know - eventually." Marina looked at him, her eyes less fearful but filling with tears. The moon came out from behind the clouds and Adam could see his wife's beauty – her skin, pale and smooth. "Marishka…" Then he pulled her to him and kissed her mouth. She put her arms about his neck and he shuddered with emotion. He realized he loved Marina. For the first time in his life, he felt an overwhelming surge of desire mixed with tenderness and – kindness. And her past didn't matter anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Revelation**

Bernice and Joe's daughter Felicia Marie, for she was called by both names, became the focus of the Cartwright family, and she was her mother's daughter, happy and cheerful. She could be held by anyone and be content. Whenever the family was together, everyone took turns holding the infant but Adam noted how Marina looked longingly at the child as she cradled her, calling her 'maya solnishka' in hushed tones. And when Marina had to hand the child back to her mother, it seemed as if the emptiness of her arms was reflected in her face.

One afternoon Adam sat at the desk doing the payroll roster as Marina sat working on a sampler, holding the embroidery hoop in one hand as she plied the needle with the other. Adam watched her. She puzzled him and he didn't like not understanding people, especially the woman who shared his bed and with whom he shared his innermost thoughts and fears. His wife was so unlike any other woman he knew but then he considered, it might be her youth. After all, there was almost 16 years between them and much life can be lived in that span of time. He wondered if Marina would be different if they had a child, a child she could hold and kiss. He decided to ask then what had been in his mind - what words did she speak to the child, Felicia Marie? After he asked, rising from the desk and walking over to her, Marina seemed embarrassed he had noticed her cooing endearments to another's babe. But, not looking up from her work, she answered. "It means 'my little sun'. She is so fair of hair – like the sun – and brings light into our lives, like the sun."

"And what should a husband call his wife?" he asked, his voice deep with longing.

Marina looked up at him as if the question was confusing. "Why, her name of course."

"No – in Russian. In times of…when he holds his wife in his arms at night. At those times, how does a man tell his wife he loves her in Russian?"

"She should know if she is loved," Marina answered, "without being told". She went back to her needlepoint. "But love - it isn't as important in marriage as are other things."

"It is to me." Adam waited.

With her eyes lowered, Marina paused before she answered. "The words are…'Ya lyublya tyebya'."

Adam repeated the phrase and Marina laughed with delight.

"And what's so funny?" Adam asked, gently pulling her up to him. "Huh? Tell me or I'll kiss you until you can't breathe!" He nuzzled her neck and she laughed even more.

"Oh, Adam, it is only funny because you, that way you have said the words…well, we have a saying - a beard does not make a philosopher."

Adam held her to him, serious now. "So, saying 'I love you' in Russian doesn't make me Russian. But it does make me the man who loves you, adores you. And I do, Marishka, I do." He looked into her dark eyes and even though it was only the afternoon, Adam swept his wife up in his arms and took her upstairs to their bed and this time, in the light of day, he saw his wife's unclothed body for the first time. He marveled at her physical beauty. Marina's skin was like porcelain – white and pink – and he was enthralled.

Finally, Adam rose from the bed to dress for the rest of the day, He turned his head when Marina moved to pick up her chemise from where it had been abandoned on the floor, and Adam saw almost invisible pink stripes on her back as if she had been whipped, flogged. But when Marina saw him looking, she flushed and quickly slipped on her chemise and then pushed her hair back that had fallen from her tight chignon.

"Marishka, what…"

"Why do you always have questions?" She stood up and impatiently fumbled with her clothing. "I am tired with your questions. I have work to do downstairs."

Adam was going to grab her arm, make her tell who marked her back but decided not to. But now he understood her dressing and undressing under her gown; she had been hiding the scars from him

It was a month after Felicia Marie's birth that Hennie announced at Sunday dinner, that she and Hoss were expecting a child. There was much joy and celebration and the best wine was brought from the cellar and a toast raised to the soon-to-be parents.

"Now, Adam," Little Joe said with a wink, "it's your turn. Best get to work."

Marina looked at the smiling faces about her and quickly rose, her napkin falling on the floor. She softly said, "Please, if you would, excuse me," and took to the stairs.

"When are you going to learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut?" Adam growled as he left the table to follow his wife.

"It was just a joke!" Joe protested. "I was just joking!"

Bernice frowned at her husband. "Some things are just too private to be funny."

But upstairs, as Marina sat dry-eyed by the window, looking out at the tree line, she shunned Adam's efforts to comfort her, to console her.

"I know you lost a child, but they don't. It was just…"

Marina turned on him, angry. "I do not require you to make my loss easier to bear. Why do you think that a mere hug or kiss is the solution to anything?"

"I don't but…" Adam gave a small snort. "Be alone with your misery then. Ironically enough, that seems to be when you're happiest." And he stalked out of the room, slamming the bedroom door behind him. And once he was gone, Marina finally allowed herself to weep.

~ 0 ~

Adam, Ben and Hop Sing were all in their Sunday best; that day, after service, Felicia Marie was to be christened. The three men sat waiting for Marina, Hennie and Bernice fussing over Felicia Marie. Marina was taking longer to dress as she was nervous; she was to be the godmother of the child, and wanted to look American, as she had said to Adam who tried to hurry her.

"What do you mean, look American?"

"I don't know but…" Marina undid her chignon as she sat at her vanity, letting her hair cascade down, only to pull it back before trying again "I cannot make my hair behave. It is as nervous as I am."

Adam moved behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "You look beautiful. Don't worry. It doesn't matter how you wear your hair."

"But I have to speak. You said I will have to answer to my pledge. They will hear my voice and my words and how I say them."

"It doesn't matter," Adam said, smiling, and bending down, he kissed his wife's cheek.

While the men impatiently waited, Adam pulled out his pocket watch; they would have to leave in the next five minutes or be late. He was about to call out for Marina when a knock sounded. The men looked at one another and Ben shrugged his shoulders indicating he had no idea. Adam opened the door.

"Morning, Roy. What brings you out here on a Sunday? We're just about to leave for church. You could have saved yourself a trip."

"Adam, I got some unpleasant business here…" But before Roy could finish, a well-dressed, handsome woman pushed her way past him. Adam stepped aside and the woman, dressed in obvious finery, strode inside the house, her chin held high. She was followed by a man, equally well-dressed but not as attractive.

"Where is she?" the woman demanded of Adam.

Just then, Marina called out as her light footfalls were heard on the stairs, "I am ready." She froze when she saw the woman and the man.

"Get down here!" the woman demanded, stabbing one finger at the spot in front of her.

"Louise, she's…" The man attempted to calm the woman who was practically shaking with fury.

"Now wait a minute," Adam said, "you don't come in here giving orders to my wife or anyone else. Roy, what's going on? Who are these people?"

Ben stood up and put a hand on Adam's shoulder. "Let Roy talk, Adam."

"What?" the woman said, stepping toward Adam. "Your wife? Mary's your wife?" The woman gave a bark of a laugh as if highly amused.

"Yes," Adam said. "she's my wife and her name in Marina. I expect you to treat her with respect, especially in our home."

Marina had yet to speak, yet to move. The woman snorted scornfully, looking Adam up and down. "Mary? Your wife? How old are you?"

"None of your business."

"Please, Louise," the man again tried to appeal to the woman's sense of decorum, touching her arm but she shrugged him off, stepping forward.

"Adam…" Ben tried further to calm his son, but he well understood why Adam would be on the defensive. Even Roy tried to intervene, attempting to quiet everyone. He held a folded paper in his hands and kept trying to interrupt, but neither Adam nor the woman paid attention to him or anyone else; they were locked in combat.

"Do you know how old your wife is? Did she tell you?" The woman held her chin up, a wry smile on her face, mischief in her eyes. She held a secret and she knew it. The dark-haired man before her was handsome, powerfully-built, but he was no young boy. The woman guessed him to be close to 40 years with gray starting at his temples and lines about his eyes and mouth; he was a man experienced in life and in things dealing with women. She pictured the man lying with Mary, holding her close, finding his pleasure with her, and it enraged her more. Now she would finish them off – both of them with one stroke.

Adam said nothing to the woman's questions, just looked back at Marina gripping that bannister as if she would faint. And suddenly he saw her with new eyes; she was young—very young with her rounded cheeks and small build, her waist he could span with both hands. He looked back at the woman who was ready to play her trump card and win.

"Mary is only 17."


	8. Chapter 8

**I did quite a bit of research to find out about indentured servants at that time, especially the law in Pennsylvania. I also researched ages of consent at this time before I wrote the previous section and I was surprised to find how young a bride could be in some states, so my facts are as accurate as I could make them. None of the legalities are figments of my imagination. There is NO child abuse or molestation or statutory rape in the marriage between Adam and Marina.**

 **The Evil**

Adam insisted his family go on to church, to continue with their plans for the christening; he suggested Hennie and Hoss be the godparents. They protested but Adam maintained that he and Marina would be there for the next child, the next christening. It was Ben though who insisted he stay behind. Joe said he understood and Bernice kissed her father-in-law on his cheek. Ben took his granddaughter in his arms and kissed her, then sent them on their way.

"I'm sorry, Adam," Roy Coffee said, handing him the paper. "According to this warrant issued out of Pennsylvania, I'm going to have to arrest Mrs. Cartwright until a hearing, well, that is once I find out if this is a valid warrant. Seems Mrs. Cartwright violated her contract with Mr. and Mrs. Waverly. She's still indentured to them until she's 22, that is according to Pennsylvania law, but I haven't had a chance to find out the law for sure myself. I sent a wire to the judge who issued the warrant asking about the law, but haven't heard back yet. It is Sunday, you know."

Marina sat still as a statue. She avoided looking at anyone, especially Mrs. Waverly who threatened her with a beating once they returned home. How dare she attempt to break their contract, first with that banker's son and then, to write an advertisement for a husband behind their backs? Oh yes, Mrs. Waverly ranted, the cook, Oksana, had finally broken down and told how she wrote the letters for Mary, told them where May had gone to meet her 'husband'. Just because they were both Russian and Mary was so young, the cook thought that was reason enough to help her run away. Oksana received a good beating for her disloyalty. Mrs. Waverly said her palms itched to take up the strap and give Mary as well, a good beating.

Finally, Adam could take no more and told Mrs. Waverly that if she said another word, he would fetch his razor strop and beat her.

Upon hearing that, Mrs. Waverly sat open-mouthed, apparently not used to being bullied instead of being the bully. Finally, she prevailed on her husband to stand up to the "horrid' man and defend her; they were legally in the right. But Mr. Waverly appealed to his wife, begged her to remain calm and quiet. The contract would hold up, Mary was still indebted to them. All would be resolved legally.

"You always had a soft-spot for her, didn't you?" Mrs. Waverly practically spat. "It wouldn't surprise me if you had just been waiting for her to grow older before you enjoyed her."

"Martha," he said. "You don't know what you're talking about. Besides, we aren't at home but here. Don't display your baseless suspicions and petty jealousies in front of strangers. If I wanted her, all she'd need to be is 14 – and I haven't touched her."

"I should have sliced off her nose after she took with child. No one would have wanted her then, no man would sniff after her like a bitch in heat! You wouldn't have a husband and live in a fancy house then, would you, Mary? Unless he made you put a sack over your head as he sweat over you!"

"Shut up," Adam said. "At this moment, Marina is my wife and this is my home, our home and you will address her by her name – Mrs. Cartwright. It would give me great pleasure to toss you out on your spiteful ass, Mrs. Waverly. Now, be quiet while I study these papers or I will."

Ben said nothing, A child. Marina had a child. Was it alive and if so, where was it? Adam had said nothing but he must have known as he didn't appear surprised at that news, but the news about Marina's age – that had obviously been a shock to them all.

Ben sent Hop Sing for coffee and some cookies for their "guests. And Roy apologized for bringing such bad news on a Sunday morning, especially when Joe's little girl was to be christened. "That Mrs. Waverly," Roy said aside to Ben, "she wouldn't wait. I told her that this afternoon would be just as good – better – than this morning 'cause of the christening, but she insisted. Said she'd go to the church and drag Adam's wife out by her hair. Then strip her naked and beat her something good right there in the middle of town. I knew it wouldn't happen – Adam wouldn't put up with such a thing or any of you, and neither would I, but I didn't want anything to happen in public for all to see. Some people still aren't too pleased with havin' Adam marry a foreign-born woman, especially one so young and pretty, when there're so many widows in these parts who need husbands and would make good wives."

Ben pursed his lips. He had long suspected Marina was younger than 22 years of age but 17? He had never thought she was that young. The age of consent in some states was as low as 7 years, and the highest at 14 years. Marina was well within those parameters but yet…the idea of Adam having married someone that young was more than merely disturbing. They would all have to reevaluate the situation and their relationships.

Adam examined the contract and the warrant. Then he read the contract again as it was convoluted and had three codicils. In Russia, it had been signed by Marina's parents who turned their 7-year-old daughter, Marina Alyosha Davidova, over to a merchant sea captain by the name of Albert L. Branch, who functioned as her guardian. The child was brought to Boston and then to Pennsylvania where she was turned over to work for the Waverlys and the indenture codicil was signed. The Waverlys had reimbursed the shipping line for her fare and transportation to them and the contract was stamped and certified in Pennsylvania where the age of release from indenture can be no more than 22 years of age. The maximum was certified.

Adam knew there had to be something about the contract that would void it but he couldn't concentrate. He glanced at Marina who sat as if struck dumb, not focusing her eyes on anything. Mrs. Waverly sat stiff-backed, waiting, although her husband took coffee with a spot of brandy, "even though it is Sunday," he had said. Roy also drank coffee and helped himself to cookies.

"I want to take this contract to our lawyer," Adam said, folding the papers. "I want him to look at their legality."

"No," Mrs. Waverly said, standing up and putting out her hand. "I want that contract. You'd probably toss it in the fire. Now give them to me, Mr. Cartwright."

"I'm not about to give them to you, and if you think that I am just…"

"Hold it," Sheriff Coffee said, putting up his hands. "Adam, I'll take possession of that contract and keep it in my safe until you go see Hiram Wood tomorrow."

"Just because you're friends with these people, you're taking their side!" Mrs. Waverly was furious. "I shall report you, Sheriff—file a complaint! Don't think I won't!"

"Ma'am, I am trying not to lose my temper with you, especially on a Sunday, but you're making it hard. I am taking possession of these papers and doing just what I said. If it'll make you any more secure, I'll accompany Mr. Cartwright here to the lawyer's and the contract. Now I think we've disturbed these good people enough. Best we leave."

"What about Miss David?" Mrs. Waverly asked. "I want her jailed to make certain she doesn't leave. I demand it! We've spent enough time and money tracking her down. I want her held until we leave for Pennsylvania."

Adam started to respond even though Mrs. Waverly wasn't speaking to him but Ben grabbed his arm. Adam turned on his father, about to tell him to release his arm, but Roy spoke to them.

"Adam, Ben, you promise to make sure Mrs. Cartwright doesn't leave town?"

"Of course, Roy," Ben said, as he felt Adam relax. "We promise. She'll be here and nowhere else."

"Sorry about all this mess," Roy said to them. "Give my apologies to Joe and Bernice for keeping you from church. I would've like to see the little one christened. She sure is a special one."

"She sure is," Ben said, glowing with pride. At least there was one shining spot.

The three visitors left but Mrs. Waverly had complained the whole time, and before she stepped out onto the porch, she turned and called out, "Mary! Marina!"

For the first time, Marina looked elsewhere than straight in front of her.

Mrs. Waverly shook her finger threateningly. "You'll be sorry for what you've done." Then she looked at Adam who stood behind his father. "And you – a grown man with a mere child for a bride! Disgusting – you bedding her! And don't think everyone won't know what you're doing out here on your ranch!" Then she turned on her heel and left.

Ben closed the door and looked back at Adam who shook his head in disgust at the scurrilous matter. Then he walked over to Marina. She looked up at him and then stood, bowing her head.

"I am sorry. I lied and deceived for my own use. I told some truth but not all. I do not blame you for anger to me."

"I…" Adam had thought he knew what he was going to say, tell her he was outraged, that he would never be able to trust her and that any marriage they might have had was ended. But he found his words had left him. "I think it's best you stay in the guest room until this is settled." Then he looked at his father. "I'm going to meet up with Joe and…explain. They should be heading back from town about now." Adam picked up his hat and strapped on his gun belt. He had to leave, had to think, had to get away from Marina and her dark, sad eyes but the memory of her white body, her soft, scented hair like a cloud about her face as she lay under him, and the taste of her sweet mouth haunted him. Adam could think of nothing but losing her forever, of never being able to intimately touch Marina again, because that was just what he was going to have to do.


	9. Chapter 9

**Just to clear up any possible confusion, in Russian, the females in a family have an "a" added to the end of the surname if possible. Romanov becomes Romanova for the wife and daughters, Davidov becomes Davidova and Ivanov, Ivanova.**

 **The Tartar Bares her Teeth**

Joe and Bernice understood; Hennie and Hoss had stood in as the godparents as Adam had requested and they hoped that all worked out for Marina - and Adam. Once Joe and Bernice went on their way, Adam rode further until he came to Hoss and Hennie, explaining as best he could, what had occurred.

"Is that to be the end?" Hennie asked.

"What do you mean?" Adam was confused.

"Is this to be the end of the marriage? What is the age of…what's the word?"

"Consent? The age of consent?" Adam added. "Is that what you mean?" Hennie nodded. "Fourteen, I think. Why?"

"Then Marina is of age. She is old enough to be your wife. They can't take your wife away, can they?" Hennie asked.

Hoss patted his wife's hand. "Hennie, if anyone knows, it'll be Hiram. He's been our lawyer for years. Right, Adam? Hiram'll take care of it." Hoss offered a comforting smile but his eyes were sad.

"I don't know," Adam said. "I actually don't know. Marina lied on the marriage certificate…I don't know." And Adam turned his horse and headed out on the property; he needed to think, to get away from Marina's influence. Around her, he couldn't focus. One thing he did know - the idea of anyone hurting Marina was unbearable and he had to protect her whether she would remain his wife or no.

The Sunday meal was subdued, no sound except the clinking of forks and knives on the china and the sound of coffee cups placed on saucers.

Marina looked at nothing but the pattern on her dinner plate, noticing the exposure of the bucolic scene in the plate's center as she ate the food without really tasting it. Adam stole glances at her and wondered how he could have failed to perceive the youthful contours of her face, the lack of lines about her mouth and eyes. But he had noticed how lush Marina was, how ripe for the picking, and he felt hot desire rise in his being again; now that he had known her, she would be difficult to deny.

Afterwards, when Marina had retired to her room, Adam confessed to his father the shame he felt for having lustful feelings about Marina, for having taken pleasure from her all those nights, all those mornings.

"But you didn't know her age," his father offered. And then more cautiously, "You didn't force her, did you?"

Adam turned, outraged. "Of course not. I never…" He calmed himself; he knew it was a question he himself would have asked. "And I know many girls around here are already married and mothers a few times over at 17, but for me…I think I knew she was so young but saw only what I wanted. I do regret not sending her away when I had the chance. The whole idea of buying a bride was…vanity and…stupidity."

"Adam, you weren't stupid, you were just…"

"Desperate," Adam answered for his father and gave a sardonic snort. "I just wanted a woman to lay. I was tired of visiting a whore house and wanted a wife of my own and when I saw Marina…" He sighed. "I let my urges take over and this is what happened. I always knew that logic and rationality were the right ways to make choices and what do I do? Act like a goddamn fool over a 17-year-old girl"

Ben told Adam not to be so rough on himself, that marrying Marina had made him happy – or had he forgotten?

"But I wonder," Adam said, "if it was a good trade-off. I had finally found a small bit of peace of mind after the war, and then she shows up in my life and turns it upside-down."

After Adam finally went to bed, sleep wouldn't come; his mind kept churning over the contract and all its aspects – and his young bride. He suddenly sat up, breathing heavily; the dark was oppressive. He slipped on his robe and after pausing and reconsidering, he knocked lightly on Marina's door. No response. He tried the knob and it turned in his hand. Marina, in her white cotton gown, kneeled at the "altar", the candles lit and the copper icon glowing in their light. Her small head was bowed, her dark hair hanging down past her waist.

He whispered her name and Marina sat down on her heels. She turned her head and Adam walked and kneeled beside her. He reached for her Bible.

You are coming to pray? she asked of him. It lifted her heart that he would join her in invoking the Holy Mother's intervention. He said, no, but he may have something…

He opened the Bible. "Can you read this?" He pointed to some lines of verse. She shook her head and dropped her gaze.

"I am a stupid girl. I only know a few words to read from when I was a small child."

Adam flipped to the back pages which held commemorations. "Can you read any of this? Are any of these notations regarding you?" Adam's heart thumped. Perhaps she was older than she knew – or, worse, she was younger.

Marina said she didn't know. But who wrote these, the names, the dates? Perhaps her parents wrote these things? No, Marina assured him, her parents were ignorant. What she herself knew, what she had learned, was from her sketchy attendance at a little village school. The village priest, he wrote the births, the deaths, in the Bible for her grandparents and then her parents.

"Tomorrow, I'll take this into town and ask Mr. Ivanov or his wife if they can read any of this. She might be able to tell your…date of birth." An idea was forming in his mind.

"I will have to go back with them, won't I? The judge will say yes, won't he?"

"I don't know. I may be able to raise enough obstacles to drag things out… I don't know."

"I won't go back with them," Marina said. "I will throw myself out a window before that."

"Marina…" Adam was weary with dramatics. "We have a long day ahead. Go to sleep. Get some rest. Tomorrow I'll take you into town with me. We'll see the lawyer. I'm sure something can be done. After all, you've been in this country since before the war and certain things may have changed. Maybe the laws in Pennsylvania have changed about indentured servants. Something can be done – there has to be. Maybe I can buy out the contract. We'll see. Go to bed, now." Adam took her hand and helped her rise. And he fought with himself. He wanted to kiss her, to take her to the bed and lie down with her, hold her next to him and feel her supple body under him and enjoy her. But the world, his world had changed. He was now in self-imposed loneliness.

"You are going to leave me then and go back to our bed alone."

Adam was taken aback. "Well…yes. Now that I know your age…" He became silent. She looked at him, calm and still.

"I am your legal wife. We have lain together for many nights and have found both delight and refuge in each other's arms. What do a few years of age have to do with it? Nothing. I am your wife if I am a girl of 17 or an old woman of 60. Do not turn your back on me, husband. Do not cast me aside. I have been faithful and obedient – have tried to help you in all things and have never refused you. Why do you reject me now? Am I unsatisfactory?"

"No, of course not, but now that I've found out how young you are…"

"In my country, girls are married as young as 8 years old – one reason my parents sent me to this country. The land-owner, he had his eye on me, as you would say, would stop by on his big horse and speak to my father about me, about when I would be old enough to go to him and his bed. He offered a great deal of money but my parents told me to hide when he came by. But I would not be able to hide forever and he was cruel. He would take a child as a wife and when she became too old for his bed's pleasure, she would be gone. It was always put out she had gone to become a bride of Christ but all knew she was dead and he was free to take another. Until I came to you, I wondered if life with him would have been better than my life as it was in the Waverly house. But then I became your wife and life became better, became happy.

"As for my age, I am older than yesterday and yet I am the same as I still care for you. Come to my bed, Husband. My heart is sorrowful at the thought of losing you, but I haven't lost you yet, have I?"

Adam looked at Marina in the dim candlelight. She was his wife, had been his wife last night and was still his wife tonight. He pulled her to him and slipped one arm under her legs, lifted her and carried her over to the bed. He placed her onto the turned-down sheets. She sat up and worked her gown up and over her head, tossing it onto the floor.

Marina stretched out her arms. "Come to me. My arms are empty without you."

Adam sighed and slightly shook his head; against her he had no defense. He slipped of his robe and climbed onto the bed and into the cool smoothness of her arms, taking her mouth and then her body. In the morning, he'd deal with his conscience but tonight, he would have only pleasure.

In the morning, Adam took his wife into town and taking the Bible, the went to the Ivanov's small restaurant where the tables were set up for breakfast with the ubiquitous white, red-rimmed coffee cups sitting upside-down on the matching saucer. A few people were eating and they glanced up when Adam and Marina walked in. Mr. Ivanov came from the back to greet them and Adam noticed Mrs. Ivanova's frown as she looked out from the kitchen, a coffee pot in her hand. Then she walked out to refill the coffee cups of the patrons.

"Come, Adam," Mr. Ivanov said, grinning at them, and motioning to a table near the wall. But Adam noticed that Mr. Ivanov kept looking at Marina. Adam glanced at her and saw what the older, heavy man saw – a beautiful, nubile, young woman whose skin was luminous, her hair as sleek and black as a raven's.

"We aren't here for breakfast. I need help with translating Russian. Would you help me, Boris?"

"Of course, of course. I will see what I can do. But sit and have some coffee, you and…Mrs. Cartwright. Business can be joined with pleasure, can it not?"

Adam and Marina sat down along with Mr. Ivanov who snapped his fingers for his wife's attention. He pointed to the coffee cups and she sullenly came over, said something in Russian and Mr. Ivanov reprimanded her. With little hospitality, she turned over the cups and filled them with the steaming coffee. Adam considered that she was probably tempted to pour the hot coffee in her husband's lap to staunch his pleasure at looking at Marina.

"Ah, a Russian Bible," Ivan said when Adam put it before him. "Adam," Boris said, a glint of humor in his eyes, "It is the same word of God in English as well as Russian." He watched Marina to see if she would laugh at his wit but she barely smiled; so far, he noticed she had said nothing, only acknowledged his greeting with a small nod of her lovely head but if he had her alone and on her back, he considered, he would make her open her mouth and cry out from pleasure.

"Yes, but what I need," Adam said as he turned to the pages in the back, "is to know if one of the births recorded is my wife's."

"Ah, I see." Boris turned the Bible toward him and looked again at the young woman. "What is your name, 'kalyonak moya' – your legal name?"

"Marina Alyosha Davidova."

"Ah, Marishka," he said, smiling. "Ti takaya kraslvaya."

Marina curtly answered Boris in Russian, and Adam noticed a sudden change in both Boris' expression and his general demeanor. He sat back and cleared his throat, examining the writing in the Bible. He pulled a pair of spectacles out of his vest pocket and put them on, examining the writing again. Adam noticed Marina staring at the top of Boris' head as he bent over the Bible, and he considered that her steely gaze would shut down any man. Perhaps she wasn't as helpless as he thought.

"No," Boris said, pushing the Bible away toward Adam. "it says nothing about her birth that I could see but then my reading of Russian is…what is the term you use, like metal that has been in the rain?"

"Rusty?" Adam offered.

"Yes, that is it. My Russian is rusty. I cannot help you." He stood, pushing the chair back. "But enjoy the coffee – free of price. And Mrs. Ivanova made fresh vatrushka. Perhaps you would like one, Adam – or your wife. Again, at no price. I am not of Tatar…Tartar blood." Boris glanced at Marina disdainfully. "The Tartars take your head from your neck as payment." He turned to Adam and offered a small, stiff smile. "Today, Mrs. Ivanova mixed peach jam with the curd cheese. Very good"

Adam turned to ask his wife but noticed she was still staring at Boris with narrowed eyes. "Marina, would you like one?"

She turned to Adam and her expression suddenly became unreadable. "I have no hunger and prefer tea to coffee anyway." She pushed the cup and saucer away, some coffee sloshing onto the tablecloth. "I thank you for your generosity, Mr. Ivanov, and there is a saying, scratch any Russian and you will find a Tartar underneath."

Boris, drawing back as if a snake had struck, nodded and hastily returned to the back of the restaurant.

"What was all that about?" Adam asked.

She shrugged. "He was attempting to insult my family. To be a Tartar among the Russians, well, it is to be cruel and bloody in revenge."

"What started all that? What did he say to make you angry?"

"Angry? I was not angry. He was…out of line. First, he called me, 'my little kitten' when he asked my name. Then he told me that I was very beautiful." She shrugged. "I told him that I am only my husband's 'kitten' and perhaps his wife would like to hear his opinion of me. That is all I said."

Adam grinned. "You are quite the woman, Marina Alyosha Davidova. Quite the woman."

She gave Adam a side-long glance from under her thick, sooty lashes. "No longer am I a girl to you, my husband? Perhaps that knowledge will help you settle more comfortably between my legs tonight."

"I think," Adam said, feeling the physical surge of desire for Marina, the memory of the night before and the heat of their coupling, begin to arouse him and overtake his rationality, "we had better leave. Now. I need to get moving." He rose and placing a hand on the small of Marina's back, directed her out. And Mrs. Ivanova watched them even after they exited and walked before the large front window, her eyes dark with anger. Then she went to the back of the restaurant, calling sternly, "Boris! Boris!" But he had slipped out the back door to avoid his wife and she stared angrily about the kitchen, her hands on her wide hips.


	10. Chapter 10

**A Tale of Woe**

"There's no record of her birth that we could find – it was in Russia, after all, and…" Adam let his voice die out; he was answering questions that had yet to be asked. He shifted in his chair; he was behaving like a goddamn fool, letting his emotions run his actions. Marina sat calmly beside him in Hiram Wood's office – or at least she gave the appearance of calm. Sheriff Coffee stood against the wall, and the Waverly's both sat beside him in stiff-backed chairs. Hiram's clerk had to bring in the extra chairs and the office was crowded.

"I don't think her age has anything to do with it. Nevada and many other states haven't examined the age of consent laws for decades and may not get to it for years – there are so many new laws that need revising or a second look now that the war's…" Hiram looked up. "In Nevada, she could be 12 and your marriage would be legal. Some states it's as low as 8 or 10 years. But these papers as far as how they're worded and such, seem iron-clad."

Mrs. Waverly stood up triumphantly. "It's as I said. Sheriff, take her into custody until we can transport her back to Pennsylvania. Lock her up in your jail." She smiled at Marina. "I'll teach you to pull something like this again."

Swiftly, Adam stood up and moved toward Mrs. Waverly. She backed up, almost falling over her chair.

"If you were a man, I'd break your spiteful neck but as it is, I..."

Sheriff Coffee stepped between them and Adam stopped himself; he knew that he would be breaking the law by threatening to harm her. He settled himself while Mr. Waverly said nothing, only dropped his head while his wife, flustered and upset, tried to compose herself.

Adam, adjusted his jacket and sat back down. He felt Marina's small, gloved hand on top of his and their eyes met. He clasped her hand in his. Adam sighed.

"Now I said the contract 'seemed' ironclad but I haven't had the time to examine it as close as I like would like. These three codicils that are tacked on, I'm not sure of them.

Adam leaned forward, releasing Marina's hand. "Let me ask you about this, Hiram. Neither of Marina's parents read Russian, so much as English. They couldn't have possibly known what they were signing."

"The sea captain," Mrs. Waverly started until Adam turned to look at her. "I have a right to speak. We have a great deal of money invested in this child. After her…after she gave birth to her bastard, she was ill. We had the best doctors for her and they cost a pretty penny. And we paid to have the dead infant buried. We treated her well and this is how she repays us – by running away for the second time."

"You treated her well?" Adam spat out. "Who put the scars on her back? Answer that one."

"She was stubborn – ran away as a girl – no more than 10. Her spirit had to be broken; she had to be kept safe and other than locking her up at night, it was the only way to make certain she didn't leave again. That there are scars…it's just the type of skin she has."

Adan turned back to Hiram. "As I said, her parents couldn't have understood all this legal language. They were desperate to give their only child a better life and if they were told a bogus story of what would happen to her in America, they would have believed it and signed.

"And Marina, she was only a child, a minor, when she signed that paper, only 7 years old and it's practically illegible. With adults terrorizing her, she would have signed. And besides all that, she couldn't read. She still can't read well since she was never sent to school in Pennsylvania.

Hiram cleared his throat, pulled off his spectacles and sat back. "Is what your husband says, true?"

"Of course, it is true. Do you doubt him?"

"No, but he did get the information from you." Marina shrugged. Adam realized that even if he said the sky was red, Marina would back him, no matter what.

"Well," Hiram said, "I'll prepare a brief for the judge on those grounds. As for arresting Mrs. Carwtright, what do you think, Sheriff?"

"Haven't heard yet from the judge who issued the warrant but I see no reason why Mrs. Cartwright can't be turned over to her husband's custody. If she's kept on the Ponderosa... why, Adam. Come over to the office and I'll deputize you. That way you can legally have her in custody.

Mrs. Waverly flew into a rage. She cried that they were all in collusion to keep Marina out of jail and in Nevada. Had they no respect for the law? Her property, Marina, should be given into their custody if Sheriff Coffee refused to arrest her. She wasn't yet 18 and until then, they should be able to handle her, to discipline her any way they chose!

Mr. Waverly attempted to calm his wife but she threw off his hand. "You think you're so clever, don't you, Marina, finding yourself a wealthy husband. But just you wait; I'll get you my little beauty and when I do, you won't be so lovely after." She huffed out of the lawyer's office, her chin thrust up, and Mr. Waverly meekly followed.

The afternoon was beautiful, the air crisp with the promise of fall, the sky blue with scuffs of white clouds and the trees seemed full of birds. Adam held the reins, the tin deputy badge on his red shirt, hidden by his jacket.

Marina hadn't spoken since they had left Hiram's office. Adam would glance at her profile under the black bonnet. Then breaking the silence, she spoke.

"When I was a child, in my village, there was a story teller. For what you would say is a penny, a child or even an adult, could sit and listen to his stories. Every market day, after I helped my father hitch up our small wagon, we would ride into the village. My mother would give me the coin to go listen to the stories while she shopped. Many parents did so and there was always a group of children sitting and listening. Many times, my mother would call me, the filled string bags hanging from her arm, and I would cry because the story was not yet finished. I would beg to stay but she would say, 'The fish should rot while you listen to a silly story? Stories are just that, stories.' She would tell me, 'Don't confuse stories with life. And there will be another day and he will tell the story again. And a new one as well'."

She turned to Adam. "There was one story I liked more than others. The name, I do not remember. But the old witch, the evil witch, at the end she was stripped naked and sealed in a barrel that had nails driven through the sides – big, sharp nails – and then rolled down a hill. That was her punishment. It always gave me great satisfaction to hear. But then I was a child."

Adam said nothing.

"Now," she added, "it seems not a cruel enough end." Marina turned and gazed at the passing scenery. But Adam was certain he had seen a small smile on her lovely face. He didn't know this woman who shared the bed and her body with him and perhaps Boris Ivanov was correct, Marina may have the soul of a Tartar and given free rein, she might very well cut the heart out of her enemy and eat it raw. Was she a woman after his own heart – not to keep safely but to rip it to shreds with her teeth? He had warned both his brothers of such things, told them to be cautious, and yet he had fallen in love with a mere slip of a girl who showed up one day. Inside, Adam was resigned; he would eventually discover, he supposed.

Ben met them in the yard. Adam helped Marina down and she passed silently into the house.

"I was worried. What did Hiram say?" Adam told his father about the brief to be presented to the judge. Ben dogged his son about the tin star on his shirt and suggested perhaps he avoid the responsibility of ensuring his wife would not run away. Adam handed the badge over with a remark about his playing deputy and being Marina's jailer for the next few days until the circuit judge arrived to hear the case.

That evening, Adam, an open book in his hands, watched his wife, her small, dark head bowed over her needle. She stabbed it through the worn heels of socks, making them like new again, actually, even stronger than before. He knew she must be in turmoil but Marina looked as serene as the Madonna. He longed to ask her about the child she bore and later buried, but he knew she would only tell him when she was ready and not before. And that night as she lay in his arms and he kissed her fragrant hair, he asked.

"The child you had, tell me." He waited, feeling his heart pound in his chest. Did she love the boy who fathered the child? He had to know.

"It was born early – too early, and died. I was ill for many days and hoped to die myself. I wished for the angels to come for me but they didn't and I was well again and put back to work as the maid, When I recovered fully enough, I was punished. That is the way with sinners."

"Why do you say you're a sinner? If you loved the boy…"

Marina laughed and it startled Adam. "It was not love as I as too young and he…. I wanted to leave my servitude and thought – stupidly, since I am a stupid girl with foolish ideas – that he loved me as he said he did. I thought he would beg his father to buy out my indebtedness since he was a banker's son. But after I told him of his child, he laughed and denied me. He had hair like golden wheat and strong shoulders; he was beautiful. I like to think he is dead, perhaps drowned at sea and eaten by the creatures, the crabs and shrimp that eat the flesh off the bones bit by bit. That is what he deserves."

"I thought the Holy Mother taught forgiveness to her worshipers." Adam said, running his fingers lightly over her bare arm. Since he knew of the pale scars on her back, the gown was no longer a necessity.

"After I know he is dead, I will forgive." Marina sighed and nestled closer within Adam's embrace. She kissed his bare chest. "Goodnight, rodnaya moya."

"Rodnaya moya? What does that mean? Or shouldn't I ask?"

Marina gave a small laugh and reached up one round arm to touch his face. "Rodnaya moya means 'my dear'."

"And what should I call you - what name of love?"

"Every time you call my name, Marishka, it is a word said with love. As long as that is in your voice, the love toward me, no other word is needed."

And she settled comfortably again against his chest and soon he heard the soft sip of her breath as she slept. But Adam couldn't sleep for many hours, just lay in the bed. And when he did sleep, he dreamed his wife had changed into a cat and lay curled up comfortably on his chest. And in his dream, he reached out and stroked her soft fur and she purred delightedly, arching her back against the weight of his palm. He was then happy because no one would know that the cat that lived on the Ponderosa was actually his wife who at night, would change into a woman and welcome him into her arms, and then, change back and stay with him. He would never lose Marina then – never.


	11. Chapter 11

**Bearer of Bad News**

Early the next morning, Roy Coffee stopped by the Ponderosa.

"Come have coffee with us," Ben said. He gestured to the table where they were just finishing.

"Why thank you," Roy said. "Don't mind if I do and if it's all right, I'd like a few of them biscuits and some of that gooseberry jam. I left town so early this morning I only had a warmed-over cup of bitter coffee – my own coffee, and you know how bad that is." Roy sat down but not before he greeted Marina who sat at the table, her face tense. "Morning, Mrs. Cartwright."

"You have news, don't you? Bad news. I know."

"Marina," Adam said, "news doesn't change in a few moments. Let Roy settle down and fill his belly first. Manners go a long way."

"Actually, it's not all bad news. If you like, I can talk while I eat – if you'll excuse my bad manners, talking while my mouth is full."

"Full – empty – I do not care. Just tell me! Have you come to take me to the Waverlys? To turn me over to them? Have you?" She was paler than usual and her lips quivered.

"According to the judge in Pennsylvania, the warrant is legal. He did state that he didn't hold much with the idea of indentured servants, but Mrs. Cartwright had, or so it seems, broken the contract. The warrant is on the up and up; he did issue it. I sent a wire back telling him that Mrs. Cartwright was in the custody of a deputy and we were waiting on a hearing. But, Adam, I don't know what to tell you; seems you haven't got …" He noticed Marina's fearful expression. "That Mrs. Waverly, she musta been waiting like a vulture because as soon as Ross brought me the telegram, she showed up in my office, just lordin' it over me, claiming she had the right to drag…" Again, Roy caught himself. "To take custody of the girl."

"You mean my wife."

"Yes, your wife - sorry. Look, I've decided I don't care how much that Mrs. Waverly howls, I'm leaving your wife here unless I get a direct order from the circuit judge to release her to the Waverly's custody. Seems they got a lawyer too and he's on his way. Or so she said. Threatened to have my job and I was tempted to give it to her!"

Marina stood up and paced in the great room, wringing her hands. Suddenly she spoke and all three men turned to her. "Sheriff, what if they die – are killed?"

"Who?" Roy asked, puzzled.

"Mr. and Mrs. Waverly. What if they happen to die or someone kills them? How would that affect my case? Would I be free of them?"

"Well, I suppose unless…" Roy looked to Adam for help.

"They're not going to die and no one's going to kill them," Adam replied to Marina, "so there's no reason to consider the possible consequences. Thank you, Roy. I appreciate that you came all this way."

Roy claimed it was no trouble and after finishing up the last three biscuits in the basket and downing three cups of hot coffee, left to return to town, reminding Adam of the hearing in the morning. Adam walked him out and when he returned, he could see the strain on Marina's face.

"Pa, would you mind?"

"What? Oh, no…I have to tend to something…I have to speak to foreman before they head out." Ben wiped his hands with the napkin, and half-rising, gulped down his coffee before he left Adam and Marina alone.

"I know they will come for me, take me back with them. I will not go, Adam. I will slit my own throat before I will go back with them. I won't leave here unless I am dead." She touched her throat as if wondering how much effort it would take. "Or you throw me back – give me to them."

"They won't take you, Marina. I've told you that. Do you truly believe I would allow it? And I won't hand you over to them; people shouldn't 'own' others. I fought a war defending that basic human right." Adam's patience was short; he himself was worried about the Waverly's legal claim and found it burdensome to try to calm is wife as she resisted all his efforts. But he knew he had to try. To see her upset distressed him; he wanted to give her a good life, to see she was happy since he found such delight and pleasure with her - and then this happened.

"Perhaps you should not have married me, Adam." Marina's cheeks suddenly flushed and her eyes glittered as if feverish. "But I have an idea." She rushed to him, grabbing his shirt front. "We could go somewhere – you and I. Not tell anyone, just leave. I could be, to others, your daughter. It would be believed. But at night, I could still welcome you to my bed. No one would know different. Think of it, Adam!" She implored him. "No longer would we have to worry!"

"Marina, that's a mad idea. This will all be settled legally. I won't be on the run and have every lawman after us because I took you away before all this matter was resolved. How could we find happiness living a lie?" But he wondered, as he looked at her desperate face, if they could find happiness at all anymore. "The truth is important to me, Marishka, obviously more important than it is to you. I won't do anything dishonest." He had been a "goddamn fool," he told himself, to have married so quickly, to have fallen in love with such a naïve woman. Yes, he admitted to himself in a flash of sudden insight—he loved Marina, no matter what. But had he made a foolish mistake? He could have hired a Pinkerton and found out about Marina's past before marrying her. But he hadn't thought at all. For the first time in his life, Adam realized, he had acted on pure emotion.

Marina's small hands dropped from his arms and her face was as if a curtain had dropped. Her eyes revealed nothing. She shrugged. "Lie but remember – that is a…what is the word? A precept. Then what is said becomes the truth and no one will doubt us. And what good has the law ever done for me?"

Adam was puzzled. He wondered if honesty, self-respect and all those other traits he had always valued were important at all to her. "I won't lie about our marriage or anything else. We'll let the law take care of it." He waited but Marina didn't look at him. She just moved away from him and began to pace nervously; her outward calm had deserted her.

"I am…I cannot sit. My being is too… too … I feel as if I will scream – go crazy! I need to walk about. I will not go far but I need to move, to feel I am doing something."

"Marina." Adam didn't use her "name of affection," as she called it; he wanted her to know he was serious. "I have to go out to the mine and my father needs to check on the mill so don't walk far. I know you've been taking walks in the afternoon but you can still become lost if you're not paying attention; one tree looks the same as another."

~ 0 ~

Hop Sing and Ben Cartwright were in the yard when Adam rode up. He knew that something was wrong – Hop Sing was rapidly talking, leaning in, his hands flying, and his father was still holding the reins of his horse. The kitchen half-doors were open and the chickens were just beginning to settle down, feathers still floating gently; they had been disturbed.

Both Ben and Hop Sing looked toward Adam and he read the concern in his father's face, the distress in Hop Sing's.

"Mistah Adam," Hop Sing said, rushing to him as he still sat his horse. "Missy Cartwright, she take buggy - go. I try to stop, tell her no, but she say she lady of house – she go where want. Been gone now two hour – maybe more."

"Oh, hell," Adam said.

"Now, Adam," Ben said, "she probably just went for a drive. Maybe she just lost her way."

"You know better than that," Adam said. "Did she pack a bag? Take anything with her?"

"No, just small purse. No bag. Her take road to town," Hop Sing said. "I run after, say you be very angry but she just keep going."

"I'm going to go find her," Adam said, jerking on his horse's rein to turn its head toward town. "Pa, just in case Marina's only lost, will you just ride about the property? Just in case."

"Of course, Adam."

Adam kicked his horse and left to take the familiar road to town, following the buggy's fresh ruts.

He found Marina on the road heading to the Ponderosa, struggling to hold back the horse who knew home was close. Marina had hitched up one of the older mares who had a foal waiting for her in the corral. When Marina saw her husband, she pulled mightily on the reins, leaning back for leverage – her bonnet slid off her head and hung behind her. The mare slowed enough that Adam reached out and grabbed the tracings.

"Where the hell have you been?" Adam demanded.

Adam had never been this angry with her before and fear crawled up Marina's spine. She swallowed deeply, gaining control of herself before she answered. "I have been to town."

"Did you see the Waverlys?" She nodded indifferently. "And? What did you say to them?"

"Just that if they took me back with them, I would tear their throats open with my very teeth while they slept."

Adam groaned and shook his head. "What did they say?" Marina merely shrugged and turned her head aside. "What did they say?" Adam demanded. He shook the tracings but wanted to shake her, she frustrated him so.

"Mrs. Waverly, she laughed, but she did not laugh with humor but with fear. I know. I could tell."

"And?" Adam waited. He was having to pull every word from her and the sky was turning orange indicating imminent nightfall; he fought the urge to dismount and pull Marina off the buggy seat and stand her before him. His stature alone would intimidate her – or not; he had his doubts.

Marina only shrugged again, looking out in the distance. "She said she would tell the sheriff I threatened to kill them, that it was against the law and that I was too stupid to know. That is almost all we said." She turned to look at Adam, his face dark with rage as he was sure there was much more that had been said. "Then I left, was coming home, and you stopped me. The horse is eager to nurse her foal. We should go now."

Adam sighed and was about to release the horse's head when he noticed an unbuckled strap on the tracings. "Look at this," Adam said angrily. "You didn't buckle this stay strap properly! The prong isn't in the hole!" He slightly raised the strap for her to see. "Do you know what could have happened? The horse could have broken free or pulled you out of your seat. Goddamn it, Marina! You could have broken your neck!"

Marina looked on him as if annoyed. "But nothing happened. Why worry now about such matters? What is the point? Or are you wishing it were so and then you would be free of me?"

Adam and his wife stared at one another. "If I wanted to be free of you, trust me, you'd be gone by now. I'd have hog-tied you and tossed you to them – and I still might. We need to get home." With his one free hand, the other holding his horse's reins, Adam awkwardly adjusted the buckle and then released the leather trace. Marina lightly snapped the reins while Adam turned his horse in the road. He followed the wagon, not wanting to turn his back on Marina; he had no idea what she was truly capable of doing.

In the middle of dinner, while Ben and Adam discussed postponing bidding on a new timber contract, Adam stopped, cocking his head. "I hear a buggy pulling up." They waited and the brass doorknocker sounded throughout the house. Adam and Ben looked at one another and then both looked to Marina who continued to smoothly spoon up her soup.

"I'll get it," Adam said, placing his napkin on the table and rising. Marina had yet to look up.

A sheepish Roy Coffee stood at the door. "Adam, I hate to come out here but…"

"Come in, Roy. I've half been expecting you," Adam said resignedly.

Roy apologized again, removed his hat when he addressed Mrs. Cartwright, and declined joining them although, no, he had not eaten. He said he had unpleasant news and an unpleasant job.

"I know why you're here – Marina's little visit to the Waverly's. She told me she threatened them but it's ridiculous – tear out their throats with her teeth. Who could believe such a thing?" Adam chuckled uncomfortably, Obviously Roy took it seriously.

"Adam, I have a problem and so do you. You were supposed to keep Mrs. Cartwright on the Ponderosa but not only did she ride into town and threaten the Waverly's lives, she waved around a gun – said she'd shoot them both right then and there if they insisted on enforcing the contract."

"A gun? No, Roy, Marina doesn't know how…" Adam turned to see Marina watching them closely; by the look on her face, he knew. "Marina, did you take a gun with you? Did you threaten to shoot the Waverlys?"

"If they said it, there is no point in denying it. Yes. I took a gun I found in the desk drawer – a small gun – I doubt it would have hurt them much."

"The derringer," Ben said. "That small pearl-handled one Marie owned. Was that it, Marina?"

"I suppose," she answered.

"Adam," Roy said, "I have to take her in; she subverted custody and then threatened the plaintiffs. I can't have that, Adam. I have to jail her. Sorry."

"Now, wait a minute, Roy!" Adam almost grabbed Roy to spin him around but Marina was already getting her hat and coat off the rack by the door. "Marina, just wait – Roy, can't you wait until the morning? I'll bring her in to town myself for the hearing. I'll lock her in a bedroom tonight."

"No, Adam. I can't wait, but her case is 2nd on the docket. Mrs. Cartwright hopefully will only be in jail overnight. But why don't you pack a few of her things and bring them out to her. I promise I'll make her as comfortable as possible and I brought a buggy. I'm gonna have to cuff her though."

Adam was going to protest but realized that were it he conveying her to jail, he'd cuff her too; otherwise, God only knew what Marina might do. "Roy, can't you put her up in the hotel instead? Post your deputy outside her door. I'll pay – you know that."

"In the same place as the Waverly's? Adam, she's made things such a mess that I'll be lucky if I get to keep my badge after all this. I bent the rules making you a deputy and letting her go home with you and now I have to follow the rules, the same as I would for anyone else. Sorry. Mrs. Cartwright, you ready to go?"

"Yes." She held the strings of her bonnet and Adam pulled her to him, embraced her, kissed her hair and then her mouth. Both Ben and Roy dropped their eyes, embarrassed at witnessing such open emotion.

"I'll be there soon. Don't be afraid." Adam released Marina and then, shaking one finger at her, said, "And don't try to escape or do anything stupid, do you understand?"

"Yes." She pulled her reticule off the chest where it lay next to the rolled gun belts, and Adam realized it was the one that had been on the seat beside her in the buggy.

"Marina. The bag."

She hesitated and then handed it to Adam. He opened the clasp and pulled out the pearl-handled derringer; he checked for bullets.

"It's not loaded, Roy. Here. Look. Now you're a witness."

"Adam," Roy said, his anger rising, "it doesn't matter and you know it! They thought it was loaded. And here she was going to bring it to jail with her."

She shrugged. "I forgot it was there."

Adam shook his head. His wife was incorrigible and he wondered if his beloved Marina would ever change, if he would ever be able to relax anywhere or at any other time than at night with his head resting on her bosom, his arms about her. Only then could he be sure where she was and what she was doing.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Damsel in the Dungeon**

"Adam, I'm sorry but you'll have to go now. It's almost 10:00." Roy stood with the ring of keys in one hand, holding the open cell door with the other.

Adam had arrived at the jail just minutes after Roy had locked Marina in the cell two hours earlier. Since then, Adam had been sitting on her cot, one foot propped up while Marina sat next to him, resting against his shoulder, his arm protectively about her. They hadn't spoken much, taking comfort instead in their nearness and warmth. But sometimes, Roy would raise his head, hearing Marina's fearful, high voice and then Adam's deep voice, reassuring and comforting – that is after he had initially reprimanded her for her foolishness as one does a child.

"Marina, I'll be at the hotel." Adam stood up. "You should have everything you need for court tomorrow." He had brought Marina a small bag – examined closely by Roy Coffee _'Now it isn't that I think you'd sneak her a gun or anything but it's my job…'_ –with a change of clothing and her vanity items. And the Russian Bible and the icon of the Holy Mary.

Roy Coffee, when he saw Adam pull his wife closer and knowing they were going to embrace, turned his head. Adam pulled Marina into his arms and kissed her, not wanting to release her. She clung to him afterward and whispered, "If the Waverlys should die before the hearing…"

"Marishka, how can you…" Adam shook his head. He knew that if he had to, he would kill for Marina but he would never kill people just because they stood in the middle of the path. "Sheriff Coffee will bring you to the hearing but I'll be there waiting. I promise."

Marina nodded and they parted, Adam, reluctantly leaving her behind in the jail cell, looking back as the key turned. Then Roy closed the heavy wooden that separated the cells from the main office.

"The damsel in the dungeon."

"What?" Roy asked.

"In fairy tales, the damsel is often locked in a dungeon or a tower."

"Fairy tales? Adam, what nonsense are you talking?"

"Didn't anyone read you fairy tales as a boy?"

"No, not that I remember. Why?"

"Because in fairy tales, the wicked are always punished, the valiant and good rewarded, and they live happily ever after. Being a lawman, you'd have liked the justice that's meted out."

"Maybe so, Adam, maybe so, but I think I'm a little too old for them now. Besides, in my family, all we read were Bible stories, you know, the 'Good Samaritan' and such. But I liked the Old Testament where you could pray to God to smite your enemies. The wicked were always punished there as well."

"Marina told me her father had a saying – pray for revenge and God will turn a deaf ear. She said that we have to manage our own revenge. But either way, Roy, fairy tales or Bible stories - I doubt there's ever a 'happily ever after'. Take care of her, Roy."

"I will. Now don't you worry. Clem's coming to relieve me at ten. Someone'll be here at all times; she won't be alone. And, Adam, promise me you won't have anything to do with the Waverlys, go see them or anything."

"Roy, give me some credit."

"I just felt I needed to say something."

Adam said he understood and headed over to the Imperial Hotel. He lay, still dressed, on his bed – his boots standing beside it, the leather shafts having fallen over. He thought of Marina alone in her cell like the beautiful miller's daughter in _Rumpelstiltskin_. Inger had read him the story one night as they traveled overland. She had a thick, gold detailed book with fairytales written in Swedish and she translated as she read. Adam remembered the pictures that danced in his head as Inger read and she would turn the book and show him when a page held an illustration. And for some reason, the story of the goblin, Rumpelstiltskin, and the drawing of him as he sneered, taking advantage of the desperate beauty who had to spin straw into gold or die, frightened him.

"But it's not her fault," Adam had said to Inger. "Her father lied to sound important; he should be punished, not her. And the king married her just because he thought she could spin gold and then that goblin comes for her child. I don't like that story even if Rumpelstiltskin does end up flying away forever."

"Adam, min älskling, it's just a story. Only a story and the end is supposed to make you happy. But I will not read that one anymore." And Inger had kept her promise but Adam had never forgot that innocence was not always protection from evil. And he wondered if Marina was as innocent as she seemed or if she had held back something. He hoped not.

As Adam's eyes became heavy and he closed them, a knock sounded on his door. He jumped and reached for his gun on the nightstand, sliding it out of its holster. He held it by his side as he opened the door. It was Mr. Waverly and he was alone.

The man put up his hands. "I'm not armed."

"What are you doing here? We shouldn't be talking; the hearing's tomorrow."

"There doesn't have to be a hearing at all – if you'll hear me out."

"Al right," Adam said, stepping back. "Come in. Sit down."

Waverly had a proposition. He had calculated that Mary – Marina - or Mrs. Cartwright, as Adam insisted she be called – still had to work off at least - $5,000. If Adam would pay that amount, the Waverlys would leave the very next day and no more would be heard from them.

"It took a while to convince my wife – she wants Mary … Marina, back after spending so much money and time to train her as a lady's maid. I told her that we'll just have to hire someone – the world has changed. Besides, Mary's … I mean Marina's married now and that might alter things legally. I even got my wife to agree to sign a paper, both of us will, saying the debt has been paid.

"You could end it all tonight, Mr. Cartwright. And we'd leave in the morning." Mr. Waverly waited while Adam paced and considered.

Adam noticed that Waverly kept wiping the sweat that threatened to trickle down his cheeks and stood out on his brow.

"Let me sleep on it," Adam said.

"Sleep on it? But don't you see how easy this is? You could have her back and in your home and your bed tomorrow – tonight even. It's such a simple solution."

"What makes you think I want her back?" Adam asked.

"Why wouldn't you? She's young and beautiful – everything a man could want."

"A man like you?" Adam asked.

Waverly stood up and straightened his jacket. "We'll see you at the hearing unless you decide to resolve this out of court first. If you do, stop by our room – 312. Good night, Mr. Cartwright."

Adam held the door open and watched Waverly head up the stairwell to the next floor up. Adam's first inclination was to pay the money and have it over and done - but there was something like an undefined itch that stopped him. He sat down on the edge of his bed and slipped on his boots. He placed his hat on and strapped on his gun belt. He would go see Hiram and look at the contract again. There was a flaw somewhere he hadn't seen, something that even Hiram hadn't seen. The Waverlys had blinked first. But he would pore over the document this time, word by word and thought by thought; he would find the catch – and there was always a catch.

"Do you know what time it is?" Hiram Wood asked, opening his front door after repeated heavy knocks finally roused him.

"Actually, no," Adam said.

"Father, who is it? What's wrong?" A woman's voice, Hiram's unmarried daughter, Betty Mae, floated out.

"It's just Adam Cartwright, dear. Go back to bed."

But Betty Mae didn't. Instead she came walking down the stairwell and when Adam was ushered into the house, she stood wrapped in her robe. She put out a hand and touched Adam's arm.

"I was so sorry to hear about your wife. It seems she's very young though - if what they are saying is true - and vulnerable. I imagine she could easily be taken advantage of."

"Yes," Adam said, his hat in his hands, feeling awkward. Was she referring to him? Did she consider that he had taken advantage of Marina? He had squired Betty Mae for a short time after he returned from the war, surprised she was stull unmarried. But she had never made his blood heat up or arouse any desire in him when he held her in his arms. But he had still considered marrying her as a possibility and she still, whenever she saw him, adopted what for her, was a flirtatious attitude. And she was, as Adam's father described – a handsome woman - and good and kind.

"Can I get you two some coffee? I assume you're here on business, Adam, with your wife in jail…" Her voice drifted off.

"No, thank you, Betty Mae. It is business, but…"

"Adam, let me inform you," Hiram said, "that it's close to 10:00 and I was asleep. Unless Mrs. Cartwright has shot the sheriff and broken out of jail, I think it can wait until tomorrow morning. Now, goodnight." He moved to open the door again. Adam stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

"All I want is to reexamine the contract. If you don't want to go to the office, just tell me where the contract is and give me the keys."

"I'll do no such thing! Now look here, Adam, I know you fancy yourself a layman-lawyer and I admire your aptitude for deciphering contracts, but both my clerk and I have examined the documents – even Betty Mae looked them over to see if we missed anything, and she has far more experience with legal matters than you—or as much. She was practically raised around contracts and torts. None of us found anything to make that contract unenforceable. I've prepared the brief for court although I'm not sure how the judge will view the maters…"

"Hiram, I have an idea but I need to reread the contract. Waverly offered to settle out of court for five thousand"

"What?" Hiram stood open-mouthed.

"I considered paying him. After all, as Marina's husband, I'm responsible for any and all of the debts she brought into the marriage – you know that. The Waverlys must as well, but up 'til now, money never entered into it; they wanted her back – not the money. I could buy out her contract now that they've offered, but there must be something else that could make it void…I just need to find it. It's not that I begrudge the money – I'd pay any price they asked, but Marina, she has this idea of justice that…"

"All right, all right, Adam, but if this is a wild goose chase, I'll charge you triple."

Adam grinned while Hiram, grumbling went upstairs to quickly dress. And he was left alone with Betty Mae.

"Sit down, Adam, won't you? My father will only be a few minutes. Please." She motioned to the settee and Adam, thanking her, sat.

"Forgive my dress, Adam." Betty Mae held onto the neck of her robe and smiled wanly.

"No, no - I should be asking forgiveness – coming here late at night and rousting your father out of bed – and you too. I am sorry, but it is important."

"I'm sure it is. I've met your wife once and she seems lovely." Betty Mae smiled.

"Thank you," Adam said, feeling uncomfortable discussing Marina. Adam considered that Betty Mae knew all the minute ins and outs of the matter of Marina and her age, the contract and the fact that Marina was so young – and ignorant of most things both he and Betty Mae valued such as appreciation of literature, knowledge of politics and the state of the world in general – and what was Betty Mae thinking of his choice in wives? Probably that she was lucky to escape him. Betty Mae was more suited to him than Marina, Adam considered. She was older, educated, calm and self-contained and someone with whom he could talk. But as Adam looked at her sitting in her high-necked gown, wrapped in a quilted robe and wearing a sleep cap over her hair so as not to muss it, Adam wondered if he would have been happy with her as his wife, if he would have hungrily anticipated turning to her in their bed at night. And although he had thought he just wanted a quiet life, Marina was – a challenge – and stirred him out of what had been encroaching passivity.

"Perhaps, if everything turns out positively, Mrs. Cartwright can join our church quilting bee? Does she enjoy needlework, Adam?"

"Actually, yes she does." Adam thought of Marina stabbing a piece of fabric to repair a torn sleeve or darn a sock. And her needlepoint; she did seem to find peace in employing her hands.

"I know it's a distance from the Ponderosa to town, but the sale of our quilts goes to educate our red brothers' children. It is for a good cause. If you think your wife would like it, the next time…" But Betty Mae never had the chance to finish as her father walked into the parlor, shrugging on his tweed jacket.

"All right, Adam," Hiram said, "but this had better be important." He kissed his daughter goodbye and told her not to wait up. Then the two men left and Betty Mae stood at the open door and watched them walk away, finally closing the door on Adam.


	13. Chapter 13

**I hope that those of you who read this story found some entertainment and a diversion from the troubles of the world or your own problems. Life is hard and if we can bring a bit of happiness into anyone else's life, we should. At least, so I believe. I hope I've done my part. Thank you.**

 **Ever After**

Adam sat against the back wall in the small courtroom, his father next to him, while Hiram presented Marina's case to the circuit judge who had barely had time to glance at the brief or the lengthy contract before the hearing. Hiram sat back down while the judge, his spectacles perched on his nose, glanced through the papers He would hold one finger on the contract while he alternately flipped through the brief or looked at the Waverly's petition.

To Adam, the judge seemed bored with the whole matter. Granted, circuit court judges were overworked and had to make quick decisions based on the law as they understood it. And this case, unlike the first one Judge Martin had heard which was simply over who would pay for damaged property during a drunken brawl, required a deeper examination. But it gave Adam time to mull over what had earlier happened.

Marina had been practically in a panic when Adam arrived for the hearing.

"Oh, Adam what is to happen to me?" Marina grabbed onto her husband. "I am going to have to go with them, aren't I?"

Adam looked at the Waverlys who sat on one side of the anteroom, while Sheriff Coffee, Hiram Wood and Ben Cartwright sat on the other. But when Hiram Wood saw Marina start from her chair at Adam's entrance, he knew what the matter was. He went over to them.

"I've tried to explain to her, Adam, that the case hasn't even been heard yet, but she won't listen to me, insists that she is doomed in one way or another," Hiram said, his frustration showing. "I thought of sending for Betty Mae. Maybe a woman could help with things, help calm her down."

"I don't think that's necessary," Adam said to Hiram. "But, Marishka, Mr. Wood is right. Don't make any assumptions. The case hasn't been heard yet. After it has, well, then we'll see what else we need to do – if anything at all, other than going home."

Before Marina could reply, the door opened and the bailiff asked them to step inside; the judge was ready for them. But before Adam and Ben entered, Mr. Waverly stopped Adam.

"Have you changed your mind? My offer to accept $5,000 still stands, that is, until we step inside the courtroom. After that, I suppose we'll take your wife away."

"Pretty confident you'll win," Adam said.

"Yes, I am. I've given you the chance to be done with the whole matter. What do you say now that you've had time to sleep on it?"

"The judge is waiting for us," Adam said, and walked through the double doors.

And now, they sat, waiting for the judge, Mr. And Mrs. Waverly talking in whispers to one another. The bailiff, who traveled place to place with the judge, glanced at them and furrowed his brow whenever their voices rose above a low buzz but they weren't deterred. And Marina would turn and glance at Adam with frightened eyes.

Finally, Judge Martin took off his spectacles and cleared his throat but before he spoke, Mr. Waverly rose.

"May I speak, your honor?"

"Who are you?" The judge pointed his gavel at Waverly.

"I'm one of the plaintiffs – Howard Waverly, and this is my wife, Martha Waverly." After receiving permission, Waverly continued. "Our lawyer isn't here yet – he sent a wire saying he had been indeterminably detained by another matter. We – that is my wife and I – would like to postpone this hearing to another time, a time when our lawyer is here. I think it's only fair as…"

The judge put up his hand to stop Mr. Waverly from continuing. "Sit down, Mr…" The judge quickly looked at the docket sheet. "Waverly. I don't see how having a lawyer to speak on your behalf would change anything – a document is either legal or it's not and I've read your petition and Mr. Carwtright's."

"But, your Honor…"

"Don't interrupt me again. Now sit down."

Mr. Waverly sat down and Mrs. Waverly grabbed his arm and whispered to him. Waverly just shook his head and kept his eyes downcast. Mrs. Waverly, her mouth pursed, obviously annoyed, sat back.

"From what I've read in the brief, well, these are basic things that can't actually be proven. We only have Mrs. Cartwright's word that her parents were, on the whole, illiterate and read no English. That doesn't preclude that someone read them the document so they understood. The same with Mrs. Cartwright, but since she was so young at the time – I believe you said she was seven years at the time, Mr. Wood, and looking at her now, I have no doubt she was that young – she couldn't be bound by a contract she signed– no minors can be held to a contract."

The judge sighed before he continued. Adam watched Marina's back, her head bowed. She seemed abjectly accepting of her fate and he wanted desperately to console her, to tell her that he would fight for her freedom, no matter what transpired.

The judge continued. "So, this is a two-part contract. The contract with the captain is that he be paid for transporting the minor known as Marina Al…" The judge seemed to have difficulty pronouncing the next part of Marina's name but continued. "…Al…yosha David - ova from Russia to the United States. The Waverly's paid it and Mrs. Cartwright here, Miss David - ova, referred to as Mary David, was to work without wages until the amount was repaid with accrued interest. But there is no stated amount anywhere of how much was paid. Nowhere does it list how much this young woman owes you – how much her passage was, but I've made an estimation on my own since without the amount in writing, it gives the plaintiffs the ability to change the amount at will, at their fancy."

Mrs. Waverly rose and stated they had paid the captain quite a large amount – she remembered.

"It doesn't matter what you remember – it's only important if it's stated and witnessed by a third party. Now sit down and be quiet."

She unenthusiastically did so.

"This last item which was added on early today – I'm assuming since it was hand-written, dated and witnessed at 4:30 - seems to be the key point. It seems to me," the judge said, "that almost 10 years of servitude would be more than enough recompense. Even at a dollar a day, and cutting a year off the time just as a margin for error, that would be $365.00 a year, and if one multiplies that by 9 years, well…" The judge made some marks on a paper in front of him. "…by my calculations which confirms those done last night by Mr. A. Cartwright – and feel free to calculate on your own, Mr. Waverly – that would be $3,285.00 in wages. Why that's a small fortune! Now, my guess, since I doubt Mrs. Cartwright traveled first class on the ship from Russia, my estimation is her passage, at the most, was about $200.00 dollars, more like $50.00 but I'll err on the high side."

Mrs. Waverly couldn't sit still any longer. "But, your Honor, according to Pennsylvania law, her indentureship is until she is 22 years old. She's only 17 – 18 at the most and then there's the interest on the amount..."

"Mrs. Waverly, all that means is that a person can't be held past the age of 22, even if they haven't repaid their debt. I can only imagine this young woman has. And unless you're in the practice of usury—and that would be a legal issue unto itself, I say the initial debt has been repaid and then some."

"But all the money we spent when she…gave birth and was ill. What about all that? We saved her life."

The judge put out his hand, indicting she should calm down. "I've taken all that into account. Now my wife and I have been blessed – well, most of the time it's a blessing – with six children. The last one was born just five years ago and it was a difficult delivery and my wife took a while to recover. He charged us $50.00 for that and $5.00 for each follow-up visit. It required two visits. That's $10.00. Then there were pills and a tincture and that ran…oh, about $3.00.

"You claim Miss David wasn't able to work for three weeks. That would be about $21.00. If I add all that up, the total comes to $89.00, and allowing for any fee hikes after the war, let's make it $100.00. Mr. Cartwright, do you have the means to pay the plaintiffs $100.00 to resolve your wife's debt?"

"Yes, your honor," Adam said, standing.

"But your honor," Mr. Waverly said, "I…that is we, have only sought to help this young woman escape her fate in her homeland. Her parents were poor, ignorant farmers…"

Adam grinned, turning to Mr. Waverly. "So, you admit that Marina's parents weren't educated enough to realize exactly what future lay ahead for their daughter."

"I did no such thing!" Mr. Waverly said, his face turning red.

"Well, Mr. Waverly, seems to me, you did just that," the judge said. "Now sit down – both of you or I'll have the bailiff remove you." The judge waited until everyone had taken their seats. "Judgment for the plaintiffs in the amount of $100.00 cash." He banged the gavel and Marina, not fully understanding what the judgment meant, looked at Adam with large, dark eyes, her mouth open. "Mr. Cartwright, see the bailiff to settle. Send in the next case, bailiff."

Adam, moved to Hiram and shook his hand.

"I guess we lost but won as well," Adam said grinning.

Hiram gathered his papers; he was prepared to argue even more should he need to do so, but was glad that things had been resolved. "We got off easy, didn't we? I suppose I shouldn't bill you for my time since you're the one who found the linchpin – but I am. After all, you cost me a good night's sleep."

Marina stood, confused as to the judgment. After all, they had lost. The judge had ruled against them and yet Adam was smiling, and after kissing her cheek, he had gone to pay the $100. The Waverlys were ushered out by Roy Coffee.

"Good luck to you, Mrs. Cartwright," Hiram Wood said, his attaché in one hand, his hat in the other. He shook Ben's hand on the way out.

"Marina," Ben said as he went to his stunned daughter-in-law, "let's go pick up your things from the jail. I brought the buggy." He took her arm, intending to steer her out of the courtroom; t next case was entering.

"But Adam…he… I don't understand what happened, dear Father. We lost the case. What is to become of me?" Her lips quivered.

"Whatever you want to become of you. Now let's go home."

~ 0 ~

Matters with paying the judgment hadn't gone as smoothly as Adam had hoped; he knew his father and Marina would be home before him. One of the tellers had been out and a long line was at the only open window. He had to wait with the others who mumbled and grumbled about the "ineptness" of the young man.

Roy Coffee stood on the sidewalk outside the bank with the Waverlys, waiting for Adam and the payment. He hoped his presence might discourage any further antagonism.

"She tricked us all," Mrs. Waverly said to no one in particular. "I knew she was clever and cunning but I never expected her to run off and find a husband."

"Martha, it's over. Just accept it."

"Accept it! One hundred dollars! Saving her from a life of poverty in Russia, allowing her to live in our home for over 10 years, feeding her and putting clothes on her back, taking care of her and all we get for it is one hundred dollars! A great miscarriage of justice! We can't just accept that, Howard!"

"Martha, please…" Mr. Waverly took out his handkerchief and mopped his face; he wanted it all to be over. He thought ahead to the train ride home to Pennsylvania and listening to his wife harp on the matter; she would be like a dog with a bone, continually gnawing at it. And no longer would he see Marina's sweet, fresh face in the morning or in the evenings when he returned home. Now he would have to hire someone for his wife's personal maid and to help the housekeeper. He would probably have to hire two – a lady's maid would consider housework below her.

And the cook, Oksana. She would take courage from Marina's success in escaping the legal maze. Perhaps Oksana would try next. And then he'd have to hire a new cook and actually pay wages. He would be financially strapped and then he would hear it from his wife every day - every morning when he sat down to breakfast, every noon when he came home for lunch, and every night before his wife retired. Life would barely be worth living.

~ 0 ~

"Marina, we need to talk." Adam walked into the bedroom where Marina was sitting, looking out the open window. She had turned to look at her husband.

"You are going to send me away, aren't you? I am just a foolish person who caused you much trouble." Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Why do you always think the worst?"

"Because it is what usually happens. My life has not turned out to be what my parents had hoped."

"And what had they hoped?"

"That I would be happy."

Adam reached out his hands and Marina took them. He pulled her up and they sat side by side on the bed.

"And are you saying that you're not happy, Marina Alyosha?"

"No, but … unhappiness lies just about each corner."

"Why think that way? Why not believe that happiness is waiting for you?"

"I have lived long enough to know…"

"Marina, you're only 17. There's so much more ahead of you."

"But, Adam …"

"Marishka, if I asked you to write a list of everything you need to make you happy…"

"I do not want to write a list." Marina's chin jutted out stubbornly.

"Marishka, golubchick, I know you can't write and I'm not going to ask you to."

"My parents, they would need me to help about the place and I would miss my schooling. My father would say, 'Better fed than taught'. I know he was right about that. But I can count!"

"I know you can – maybe you can take over the books from me."

"What? I do not understand…"

"Marishka, it's a joke."

"You are laughing at me?"

"No, my darling, dorogaya moya. Never. But count out for me then, what you need to be happy?"

She sat and thought for a moment, glancing at Adam. "Well, one, I would want to be loved."

"You already have that, don't you? After all, I love you."

Marina looked at Adam as if she was puzzled. "Do you really love me? After all, I am but an ignorant girl."

Adam laughed and took her small face in his hands. "Yes, I really do." He kissed her and she threw her arms about him. "Now," he said as he released her. "What is second and third and fourth."

"My mother, she always hoped I would find a good man to marry and I have. You are a good man, Adam – our Holy Mother has blessed me. That was the second thing she wanted for me. I do not need for food – Hop Sing makes certain of that!" She smiled up at Adam. "And I am clothed well. My parents would be happy if they would see me here in this grand house. My mother would cry from happiness – my father as well. He told me when I left to always remember them both and to pray to the Holy Mother. I pray for them every night and hope that, should they be dead, they smile down on me – on us. If I am happy on earth, they are happy in heaven."

"Then you have everything you need, everything your parents wanted for you, don't you?" Adam looked at Marina. She was truly lovely and he adored her, but she had yet much to learn about life – and he realized he did too. Especially about truly loving someone. "There's no reason you can't be happy, is there? I mean you don't have to worry about the Waverlys ever again. You're a free woman to do as you please."

Marina smiled and looked up at Adam from under her lashes. "I am not totally free to do as I like. After all, we are one, you and I. The Bible says that two are one flesh. So how can I do what I please unless you, my husband, agree? I cannot tear myself from you – separate my flesh from yours. But perhaps, there is one more thing I require for happiness that you will agree to."

"Oh, and what is that?" Adam looked at her suspiciously.

"My mother always hoped that I would have children. That too would make me happy. What do you think, dusha moya?" Marina touched his face, ran one finger along his cheek and then his lips.

"I think that I can help with that." Adam smiled and reached for his wife, pulling her into an embrace. Then she gently pulled away and lay back on their bed, her arms raised to welcome him.

"Lyubov moya, pridl ka mne," she said, her voice and body enticing him.

And Adam didn't even have to ask what the words meant – he knew an invitation to happiness when he heard it.

~ Finis ~

"Lyubov moya, pridl ka mne" translates as "Come to me, my love." "Dorogaya moya," means "my dear."

"Golubchick" means "little pigeon"—an endearment - and "dusha moya" means, "my soul."


End file.
